


Bastards

by Kpopnlockit



Category: Block B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kpopnlockit/pseuds/Kpopnlockit
Summary: I started this story when the MV came out but then I kind of lost inspiration. But now it’s back. But I can’t decide if there will be smut of not. Anyone wanna vote?-Admin O





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story when the MV came out but then I kind of lost inspiration. But now it’s back. But I can’t decide if there will be smut of not. Anyone wanna vote?
> 
> -Admin O

It was raining. Not that you minded. You quite liked the rain, but it made it hard to focus. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up in your warm bed. The chair squeaked as you leaned back to yawn and stretch. The yawn was wide, but there was no point in covering your mouth. There was no one to be polite for. It was Friday night and your only company in the library was dead silence, which was doing nothing for your drowsiness. You stared blankly at the books scattered across the desk and sighed. That head start on your homework that you had been hoping for was not going to happen today.

You shoved your books roughly into your bag, irritated with your inability to be productive. You left with a huff, swinging your bag over your shoulder. It seemed that you flung the library door open with too much force as it slammed into someone on the other side. A male voice cursed loudly and you were suddenly scared to check how much damage you had caused. Peering hesitantly through the still open door, you came face to face with a clearly pissed off boy. He wore a dark denim jumpsuit and a white sweatband that pulled his black hair away from his face a bit. He was tall enough for you to have to crane your neck to apologize to him. He sucked on his teeth and gave you a look that said he was less than impressed. “Watch where you’re going,” was his only response before he walked away. You stood rooted as you watched him go. The sunlight caused his wrist to glint. You squinted and managed to make out the unhinged metal handcuffs that hung from his reddened wrist. You pointedly looked away in case he decided to glance back. Pretending that you hadn’t seen anything was clearly the best option. Whatever that you had just seen was trouble without a doubt. You made a mental note to never bump into him again.

It wasn’t long before you reached the shabby apartment you called home. You shared the place with your friend and classmate Hyuna and she was sitting on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table painting her toenails when you stumbled in. Shucking your bag to the ground, you made your way over to her. “Get ready, we’re going out tonight,” she said without even looking at you. “I’m too tired,” you replied as you carefully sat down besides her. “I don’t care,” she sassed you. “I just spent the entire day studying in the library!” you complained. Not that you had gotten much done, but she didn’t need to know that. “It’s Ga-in’s birthday! You’re going!” she half-shouted, finally turning to look at you. You froze. You had completely forgotten about Ga-in’s birthday and instantly felt guilt wash over you. The cable box below the TV read 08:00. There wasn’t enough time to scour for a gift and get to the club on time for the party. You swore and headed for the shower.

Two sets of heels clacked as you and Hyuna tromped up to the club. Not even half an hour ago you had tossed back an energy drink and you were practically vibrating now. There was a line but you bypassed it, heading straight for the bouncer. Hyuna leaned up to whisper in his ear and not a breath later he ushered you in, Hyuna casually slipping a bill into his palm. Hyuna grabbed your hand before weaving through the crowd gathered on the brightly lit dance floor. You tugged the hem of your dress down to make sure your butt was covered as you squeezed past people. The whole club was vibrant with neon lights adorning the walls and vivid Japanese folding screens acting as barriers for booths. The DJ had his own alcove to your far left and right across from him was the bar made of a series of metal tables spanning the entire wall. Bottles on glass shelves made up the wall behind the counter, and you could see that the place was well stocked, carrying alcohol from various countries. Between the bar and the DJ was the dance floor, already packed with people blocking out the light from the huge white lighted tiles underneath them. Straight ahead was the VIP section with throne-like chairs and glossy black tables. You and Hyuna made a bee line for the group of seats occupied by familiar faces. Ga-in sat in the center, clad in her signature heavy black eyeliner and a matching tight black dress. After giving her a quick hug and wishing her a happy birthday, you demanded she tell you what she was drinking so you could buy her a bottle of it. A little expensive but considering you hadn’t remembered to get her a proper gift, it was the best you could do at the moment. “Whiskey,” she shouted over the music and you nodded, confirming that you had heard her. Hyuna slipped into an empty seat next to Narsha and began to chat as you headed for the bar.

Never having been to this club before, you thought it strange that the employees only wore black underwear under clear plastic dresses. Ga-in had chosen the place herself and her tastes were different so you simply shrugged it off. Pushing past people wasn’t easy and you had to resort to using your elbows to make your way through the throng. Once you emerged from the sea of people, you stopped dead in your tracks. Your heart flip-flopped when you registered that the bartender was the guy you had smacked with the door earlier. His hair was now neatly styled and there were no handcuffs in sight so you had to do a double take to make sure you were seeing correctly. After a few rapid-fire blinks, there was no doubt. He had changed into black clothes and adorned himself with jewelry, but there was no mistaking the cold look in his eyes. It was definitely him. You were obviously doing a real bang up job of avoiding him. You hesitated a moment longer before gathering the courage to approach the bar. Discomfort didn’t begin to describe what you were feeling as you found a spot on the counter to lean against.

When he finally noticed you, he made no indication of recognizing you. You silently thanked the heavens and ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels. He replied with a curt nod and let you know that it would be delivered straight to your table. VIP perks were a godsend at that point. The cash you pulled from your bra was slightly damp from the nervous sweat you had broken into. The speed at which you turned around with after paying was no joke. You sighed deeply before thrusting yourself back into the fray.

A female server in fishnets brought the liquor over not too long after you had settled into Hyuna’s lap due to a lack of seats. The girl handed everyone in the circle a shot glass and divided the whiskey evenly. You informed the woman that it was Ga-in’s birthday and she promptly poured her a second drink. That earned her a round of applause and some laughter. The server discretely departed and Narsha proposed a toast, after which the group cheered and collectively drained their glasses. Everyone chanted for Ga-in to chase her first shot with the second and she did with the help of Miryo forcing the alcohol to her bright red lips. There was another round of applause and you knew that Ga-in was going to be a complete mess later. You giggled at the thought, the fire in your throat slowly fading. Any remaining wariness about the bartender was quickly put out of your mind as someone mentioned buying the second round.

A warm fuzz began to settle over you after your fourth drink and the music seemed to call out to you. Ga-in was a ball of laughter tucked under her model boyfriend’s arm when you pulled Hyuna to the dance floor. She was slightly unsteady in her stilettos but you didn’t care, nearly toppling over her yourself. You pushed past the crowd and made your way to the center of writhing bodies. Not giving a damn about anything at the moment, you let loose in a fit of flailing limbs and gyrating hips. Hyuna gave you a grin before doing the same. You were still aware enough to pull down the hem of your skirt every time you felt it riding up too high. The music was good, the songs heavy with bass and fast enough to dance to with repetitive measures. The DJ knew what he was doing. A peek over at the DJ’s booth had you appreciating him more as he was a delectable sight. His hair was dark and styled into a sexy mess. His skin was a shade of golden bronze which highlighted his cherry red lips. He was shirtless under his white blazer and body paint was smeared across the sliver of visible chest. God bless the tight black pants that emphasized every ridge of his leg muscles and defined butt. Hyuna caught your line of sight and bumped your hip with her own before flashing you a wicked smile. You let your gaze linger a little longer before turning back to your friend. She grabbed your hand and spun you. You giggled gleefully and let the alcohol take complete control of you.

And then you saw him. You happened to look up, and when you did your eyes locked with his. He wandered along the edge of the dance floor with his hands clasped behind his back. His all black suit and slick hair gave him a bad boy look that had you intrigued. The fact that he had left the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone did nothing for your currently failing sanity. If not for the large red flower sewn to the breast of his suit jacket, he would have been completely out of place, far too overdressed for the atmosphere of the club. The corner of his lips turned up when you held his gaze steadily. Realizing that you had been blatantly staring, you hurriedly turned away. Embarrassment overcame you and you momentarily lost the ability to dance. Not that Hyuna noticed. While you were preoccupied, some guy with bleached hair had grabbed her. She was too busy grinding on him to pay you any attention. Not drunk enough to feel comfortable dancing alone, you returned back to the table. Glancing around you registered that the group from earlier had disbanded, remnants scattered throughout the room.

You sighed, feeling your buzz wearing off. You needed another drink. Skirting around the crowd, you returned to the bar. The bartender was still intimidating as ever and you simultaneously wished that he wouldn’t tend to you and that he would just hurry up and serve you already. You wanted to keep the exchange as short as possible. It took a few minutes for him to wait on the customers ahead of you, but he gave you a knowing smirk when he got to you. You piqued an eyebrow at that. Had he recognized you after all? “A mojito,” you ordered when he didn’t say anything. He went to work mixing your drink as you peeled cash from your sweaty cleavage. The man placed your cup on the counter and pushed away your extended hand full of money. You shot him a questioning look but he only slipped away behind the bar to serve the next person.

Hesitating, you didn’t know whether or not you should pick up the drink or not. You had watched him make the drink, using the bottles on the shelves behind him and other ingredients that he had been using for the other customers. Unless he planned on poisoning the entire club, there was no way he added anything extra to your mojito. Still, something felt amiss. Why would he give you a free drink? Was it an apology from earlier? Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took the cup and shot the bartender another look. He was paying as much attention to you as Hyuna was. You decided not to question it and slid into the seat that Ga-in had been sitting in earlier. The music had shifted to something slower and sultry and you couldn’t help but take note of how the female servers had flocked around the DJ as you sipped on your cocktail. It didn’t taste off in the slightest, so you figured it was safe to drink. Feeling the short hairs on the back of your neck stand suddenly, you immediately sat up straight and searched for the source of your discomfort. Scanning the venue, you landed upon a familiar set of eyes.

The man in the black suit was staring you down from his perch at the bar. His uniquely shaped lips were still upturned in a cocky smirk. Unease shivered up your spine but you were captivated. You were always a sucker for the mysterious ones. Taking another swig of your drink, you pointedly looked away. After waiting a moment, you glanced back to find that he was still watching you. His smirk broadened into a full blown smile and he raised a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. Your eyes widened and you turned your head sharply. Heat crawled up your neck into your face. Were you being flirted with?! You resisted the urge to slap yourself. Was this really happening? Another gulp of your mojito allowed you enough time to process the situation. A boy showing interest in you was something completely foreign to you. You had no clue how to react. But you didn’t have to.

He was in front of you when you tried to sneak another peek. Startled, you recoiled as he leaned down a little closer to you. He smiled wider at your reaction. You willed your heart to stop racing. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice deeper than you expected. Clearly not thinking straight, you didn’t even think before you answered “Yes.” It was only after you had replied that you realized that you were still holding your cocktail. You were sure that you looked like a fool until you saw that your cup was actually empty. When had that happened?

He held out his hand and you shyly took it. His grip was firm and his large hand enveloped yours with radiating warmth. You didn’t know what came over you to make you so bold as to hold a stranger’s hand. But for some odd reason, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You shuddered when his breath tickled your ear as he leaned down to ask you your name. The bass in his voice stunned you once again. He said his name was P.O after you gave him yours. It was clearly an alias and you wished that you had thought to use a fake name. But you weren’t thinking straight anymore and your ability to speak coherently was slowly fading. It was only one drink, why were you so tipsy? Usually your tolerance was so high you could drink everyone under the table. P.O pulled you along to the bar where you requested another mojito from the scary bartender. He now gave you an eerie grin from behind the bar which still unnerved you through your fog. It seemed that P.O knew the bartender well enough that he didn’t even have to verbalize his order before he was off to whip it up.

Hyuna and Ga-in were nowhere in sight when you searched the dance floor for them. After you had gotten your drinks, you and P.O headed back to the table to engage in some small talk. The alcohol coursing through your veins had made you brave, brave enough to giggle at the handsome boy’s silly jokes and forget that you were an awkward turtle with the opposite sex. He subtly placed a hand on your bare thigh and you knew for sure that he was flirting with you. It was so thrilling that you didn’t even register that your vision was staring to go blurry at the edges. By the time you were halfway through your second drink, you felt like you were floating. Your mind was screaming at you to slow down but when P.O raised his glass in a toast you couldn’t refuse. He drained his cup and you did the same. You had to rest your head on the back of the chair to relieve some of your lightheadedness. Vaguely, you could hear P.O ask if you were okay. You slurred a nonsensical answer. Not two minutes later you were unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness filled your sight as you slowly opened your eyes. You groaned, your head was throbbing and your body was unusually stiff. The floor was hard against your tender flesh. You had clearly not made it back to your apartment. Where ever you were, it was freezing. You tried to sit up but your arms were sharply pulled back and you yelped with the sudden pain in your shoulders and wrists. From the way the metal bit into your skin, you were sure that you hand been handcuffed behind your back. Panic set in, and you scanned the large room, only able to make out the outlines of multiple large objects. You tried to tuck your legs under you and at least get your face off of the floor, but your arms got caught once again. Tugging on your restraints, you realized that the cuffs were attached to something. Scooting back, you felt a metal chain and followed it up to where it was attached to something large and ridged. Now that you weren’t extending the chain so much, you had enough room to turn over. You hand been chained to a radiator. Terror tightened in your throat and you were finally able to sit up. Struggling, you managed to lean back against the radiator, which you found to be equally as cold as the floor.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing this to be some sort of horrific nightmare. When you opened your eyes you were met with the same pitch black room. Your pulse pounded in your ears. Fragmented pieces of the night came to you as you tried to remember what happened. The sensation of floating as you spoke with P.O was the last thing you could recall before feeling like you were being carried. Then that was it. There was nothing else that you could remember. You must have passed out at the club and was carried to where ever you were currently being detained. That goddamn drink must have been tampered with after all. Getting drunk off of a single mojito should have raised a red flag but you just had to have a second, didn’t you? You crossed your legs and there was no pain between them. You sighed in relief before you realized that just waking up in a dark room would not be the end of this.

Light blinded you as a door slammed open. Recoiling momentarily, you quickly recovered and tried to take in as much of the room as you could through squinted eyes in the brief brightness. The silhouette of a man standing in the doorway straight ahead was the first thing you processed. Searching the room, you saw that you were in a simple rectangle of cement with a single window in the room that was barred off. A ring of ratty chairs that looked like they had been taken from the club sat not two meters from you. You turned your head to register the rusty radiator that you were bound to. Groaning, you realized that there was no escape. There was only one exit and though everything else in the room was old, your chains shone with fresh strength.

The figure came closer but the door remained open, allowing you enough light to recognize that the man was the creepy bartender. Fear completely washed over you. He had managed to mess with your drink though you had been watching him the entire time. Was it in the ice? Or was the whole bottle of rum drugged? He stopped when his shoes brushed against your knee and squatted down to eye level with you. Shrinking back, you tried not to make eye contact. He grabbed you by the hair and jerked your head back so he could inspect your face. You were too frightened to beg for your life and could only manage to whimper in pain. He huffed irately and threw you aside. You almost hit the floor with the force of the swing but somehow managed to stay upright. Though, your hair fell into your face obscuring your vision. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice sharp with an edge of steel. You gave him your name without raising your head, hoping that he would realize that he had the wrong person. The half-smile he gave you was laced with venom. “Who sent you?”he tried. Confused, you remained silent while you contemplated the question. A firm hand wrapped around your throat.

Your head snapped up as your air supply was cut off. Ice flooded your veins as terror seized you. He let up a little so that you could breathe but applied enough pressure to coax you into giving him answers. “Who sent you?” he asked again through gritted teeth. “No one,” you choked as tears began to fall. His grip tightened and you screamed, “No one sent me!” “And you just so happened to be at our club after running into me at the library?” he questioned. The use of the word “our” practically restarted your heart. There were more of them. “I don’t know who you are!” you pleaded. The hand squeezed harder. You sobbed loudly now, too scared to have any reservations. The man sucked on his teeth before releasing you. Slumping forward, you cried hysterically. You could feel his eyes watching you but you refused to look up. You hands were balled up so tight that your nails were cutting crescents into your palms. Fear didn’t even begin to explain what you were feeling at the moment. “Shut up,” he barked. Sniffing, you bit down on your lip to stifle your noises as you trembled. He abruptly stood and left, letting the door crash shut behind him.

Darkness once again consumed you. Collapsing back onto your side, you kept your hands fisted behind your back. Tears rolled across the bridge of your nose and formed a small puddle on the floor. You had no idea what was happening. Guessing by the turn of events and the handcuffs you had seen on the bartender yesterday afternoon, you doubted that making it out alive was an option.

A floor up from where you were being held hosted a sectional couch where two men sat. P.O faced a small monitor where you could be seen lying on the floor in night vision. The bartender sat in the middle with his head in his hands. “U-kwon hyung, who is she?” P.O asked in his husky voice before turning his attention away from the screen. U-kwon’s eyes flickered to the man standing over a metal industrial style table not far from the sectional. “B-bomb hyung, do we know who sent her?” He inquired, frustration evident in his voice. Pictures were splayed across the table. They were all of you, taken from security camera footage. The DJ bit the pad of his thumb as he inspected the images. “None of these people look familiar. CNU already checked them out and none of them are affiliated with anyone in this area,” B-bomb reported. “She didn’t have any tattoos,” U-kwon added. “I don’t think she recognized me and my face is the most well-known out of all of us.” P.O commented. A moment of silence passed through the room. “Hyung, did we take a civilian?” P.O asked with a tone of concern that had B-bomb gnawing on his lip. “It’s too much of a coincidence,” U-kwon flared at the accusation. Looking at the information they had gathered and your reaction, the possibility of them having made a mistake was high enough to make them uncomfortable.

“She could be acting,” U-kwon suggested, nodding at the screen of you convulsing. “But why would she accept the drinks?” B-bomb asked himself more than anyone else as he continued to study the photos. “Something doesn’t add up,” He concluded. With that, he stalked out of the room determinedly. U-kwon and P.O exchanged a look of bewilderment before light was flooding the monitor, catching both of their attention.

You automatically curled into yourself at the sudden flash of light. Whatever that had caused the door to open couldn’t have been very good for you. If it was the bartender again, you were for sure going to end up dead this time. You squeezed you eyes shut, hoping that blinding yourself would make everything return to normal. Leftover tears slipped past your closed eyes, adding to your stained face. Having no more energy to cry further, you resigned yourself to shallow breaths as you felt a presence stand above you. There was a moment of nothing. No noise, no movement from either one of you, just stillness. The quietness pushed your nerves into overdrive. You cracked an eye to take a glimpse of whoever was next to you. The man kneeling down besides you was definitely not the shady bartender. It took you a second, but you realized that it was the DJ. You ground your teeth together to hold back the scream that clawed at your vocal cords. Choosing to focus on the ceiling to block out whatever came next, you wished that he would hurry up and leave. When another minute passed without anything, you gathered enough courage to look and see what the heck he was doing. The DJ was staring at you, scanning your bare arms and legs.

“Ever heard of Yongguk?” he asked, his voice significantly less hostile than the bartender’s. You shook your head no vigorously. “What about Taewoon?” Again you shook your head no. You wanted to beg him to let you go, to insist that there had been some sort of mix-up, but the ghost of hands wrapped around your neck had you keeping silent. It would probably be best to just keep your trap shut and listen to whatever they demanded. The DJ nodded slowly as if processing the new information. If smacking yourself were an option right then, then you would have because you caught yourself thinking about how handsome he was when he was lost in thought.

Without any further words, the DJ stood and left. The door slammed shut behind him with a finality that had you shuddering. Was this really how it was going to end for you? Being left alone with your thoughts was driving you crazy. Having an overactive imagination was working against you big time. You just wanted to go to sleep and turn your mind off, but it was so frigid that there was no way to get comfortable enough to even doze. So you sat there debating with yourself whether you would be sold, raped, beaten, killed, or all of the above. Tired from being terrified for far too long, the morbid ideations didn’t faze you. You were past fear. There were no longer hopes of going home. Numbness to your current predicament had become the only reasonable option if you wanted to keep your sanity intact. And so, you spent the next few hours trapped in your psyche rather than trapped in that blackened room.

You woke to someone lightly tapping your cheek. Mentally and physically drained, you must have managed to finally pass out. Groggily glancing up, you realized that P.O sat crossed-legged looking down at your twisted prone body. In the small amount of light that the cracked door allowed, the sheepish smile on his face was visible. He was no longer dressed in his suit. Instead, he sported white long sleeves under denim overalls and sneakers. His hair was a mess, as if he had just woken up from going to sleep with it wet. The whole look made him look ten years younger than he did the night before. “Clothes really make a man,” you thought to yourself.

A none too gentle hand tugged you upright. At this point, your head was pounding from dehydration (or being drugged, you weren’t sure which) and your skin was glacial. You knew your face was disgusting, with smeared mascara and fading make up. Hell had nothing on what you were feeling like. After unscrewing the cap, P.O offered you a bottle of water. “Drink this,” he ordered in that rumble of a voice. Pressing the rim to your lips, he tipped the bottle. Your pursed your lips firmly and let the water drip down the sides of your lips to your neck. The last time you accepted a drink from this man you had ended up unconscious, leading to your current hostage status. Understanding, P.O commented, “It’s not drugged so just drink it.” “You heard me break the seal,” he added when you narrowed your eyes at him. Still, you held steadfast.

Growling in irritation, he grabbed you by the hair and pulled, forcing your head back. Your immediate reaction was to squeak at the unexpected pain. Using your open mouth, P.O poured the water down your throat. The water rushed down faster than you could register at first and you sputtered as you tried not to choke. Realizing that you were forcing yourself not to swallow, P.O tugged at your hair harder and didn’t let up on the stream of water entering your esophagus. Suffocating immediately became a very real possibility. Panicking, you gave in and swallowed. His grip didn’t lighten up in the slightest and he demanded, “More.” Again you resisted and again he refused to let you spit it out. Eventually, P.O had managed to get half a bottle in you.

Saying that you were furious was an understatement. But, you bit your tongue, knowing that risking your life for a few insults wasn’t worth it. Baring your teeth with a dirty look was the route you took instead. P.O silently released you and saw himself out. When the door snapped shut, there was still some light in the room. Twisting around, you were able to catch a glimpse of the sunlight beyond the barred window. It was already the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

Your face stuck to the cold cement floor. Again, sleep refused to come to you though you tried everything you could to bring it on. Thoughts raced through your mind and you tried your damned hardest not to think of your grimy skin, your full bladder, or the frostbite that was setting in your toes. Most of all, you tried to ignore the hunger clawing at your belly. More sunlight spilled into the room as the day went on, but it was still not enough to make out any finer details of the furniture. From the angle the shadows were cast at, you figured you were underground, probably in a basement.

What felt like hours passed before P.O returned. He tucked an arm behind his back and your heart flew into your throat. All you could think about was that he had come to finish you off with a gun hidden behind him. You quickly sat up and skittered as far backwards as you could, hitting the radiator you were tied to. He pulled his hand out of hiding as he approached you and you pointedly closed your eyes. Quaking with fear, you struggled to breathe. “Ta-dah!” P.O exclaimed. You hesitated to look but after a moment of nothing happening, you cracked an eye.

A cookie wrapped in plastic had been thrust in your face. Piquing an eyebrow in confusion, you looked up at him. He smiled and pointed to the sticker on the front of the packaging. The cookie was from Starbucks. You were at a loss. What was going on here? P.O sat down besides you and you caught yourself before you could lean into the heat he was radiating. He tore open the plastic and the smell awoken your forcibly suppressed hunger. You hadn’t eaten since lunch on Friday and it was now Sunday morning. Your stomach was none too pleased with you. Seeing how you were still alive after being force-fed that water, when P.O pressed the cookie to your lips you immediately took a bite. He chuckled, clearly pleased with your response.

You had been worrying about dying for the better part of twenty-four hours, and if you were going to be ended by a cookie, then so be it. At least you would die with something in your stomach. The cookie was delicious, but it was probably your hunger than made it taste better than normal, and you found yourself going in for a second bite. Death by cookie seemed more and more attractive. At least you wouldn’t be stabbed. “Sorry,” P.O mumbled. The apology caught you by surprise and you coughed as a piece of cookie almost slipped down the wrong pipe. With a guilt-ridden expression plastered on his face, P.O refused to look you in the eye. Not knowing how to react, you didn’t move even though he still held the cookie out for you.

“You were telling the truth, weren’t you?” he asked, “You’re not tied to any gangs, are you?” You shook your head slowly, not knowing where this was going. “We’ve been trying to figure out who you belong to but all we could find was your university records.” he explained. Unease washed over you as you processed what he said. They knew your name, they knew what school you went to, and you didn’t doubt they already knew where you lived. P.O scratched the back of his head sheepishly before pushing the cookie against your pursed lips. Unwillingly, you ate though you had lost your appetite. The only reason they had kept you alive was because they thought you were of rival gang and could supply them with information if they pushed hard enough. Now that they knew you were a civilian, there was an even slimmer chance for survival. You would just be collateral damage as they covered their tracks.

P.O reached over and ruffled your hair with his free hand. Your heart stuttered for a moment and you stared at him wide-eyed. He gave you a gummy smile that was intended to comfort you, but all it really did was make your sense of dread worse. Realizing his mistake, he said, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” Forgetting your place, you scoffed. Like you could trust him. Your lapse in judgment was temporary and when you remembered that your life was in his hands, you glanced back at him to gauge his reaction. He looked like a kicked puppy. Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. “I’m serious,” he added lowly. You nodded just to appease him, but you knew that he could see right through it.

“Now let’s go.” P.O said as he placed the cookie on the floor and stood up. You mourned for the half eaten food before looking up at him. “Where?” you rasped, your throat bone dry. When he didn’t answer and reached into his pocket, your heart stopped. Though he pulled out a key, you couldn’t relax. P.O knelt down in front of you and reached around you. You were scared stiff, but his body heat was still tempting. There was a loud clank and suddenly your wrists felt lighter. Before you could turn back and make sure that you were really free, P.O grabbed you by the shoulders, hauling you up. You teetered in your heels, legs weak from a lack of movement and nutrition. He wrapped supportive arm around your shoulders and let you lean on him. Not that it did very much, as you still stumbled when he dragged you along. “Where?” you repeated. Again, you were ignored. Sighing, you resigned yourself to being led by the nose. You just hoped your destination wasn’t the slaughterhouse.

The smell of shampoo lingered on his skin and you couldn’t help but be jealous. What you wouldn’t have done for a hot shower. Tripping over the threshold in the doorway seemed to be the final straw for P.O, as suddenly you were air born, gathered into his arms. Surprised, you clung to his neck for dear life as he carried you bridal style. He beamed down at you in a gesture of reassurance. The lights of the hallway proved to be too much for your eyes that had grown accustomed to the dark and you buried your face into his shoulder. He paid you no attention and kept moving. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought that you weighed nothing at all with the way he sprung down the hallway. Slowly, you adjusted to the brightness and tried to catch as much of your surroundings as possible. You needed to orient yourself if you were going to even think about escaping.

The passage you were in was similar to your holding cell, all cracking cement and a hint of must in the air. Though it hurt to look at the lights, you took note of the yellowed fluorescent bulbs. It was only a few steps further before you reached an elevator that arrived as soon as P.O stood in front of it. He got in and said, “Hit number five.” In no position to refuse, you did as told. There was no button for level four. The building must have been older than you had originally thought to have been constructed in line with such superstitions. The lift ran smoothly, without as much as a single groan or squeak. They must have done a few renovations. When the doors reopened at the fifth floor, you were greeted by cleanly wallpapered walls and white tiled floors. The contrast was striking, so much so that you could only gape. As P.O stepped into the out of the elevator, you couldn’t help but stare at the small chandeliers that hung in succession from the ceiling. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that you were in a hotel.

He stopped at the end of the hallway, where each wall hosted a fancy cherry wood door. After jostling you a bit to free up one of his hands, he turned the knob on the door to the left. You noted that the door was unlocked and didn’t seem to have an external security mechanism. That meant that it locked from inside. The room beyond the intricate door was not at all what you were expecting. The walls were hot pink and everything else was cream colored. The curtains over the windows on either side of the massive bed were light and airy and the carpet was plush. The bed was stacked with pillows and the down comforter only made it look cozier. The whole room screamed cotton candy. Did one of them have a little sister?

The walls were tastefully decorated with landscapes. Interestingly, there were two ivory doors to the right of the bed. Lightly, P.O padded towards the only piece of furniture in the room and gingerly set you down on the bed. You were regretful to let go of his body heat, but sinking into the soft mattress felt so good after lying on the cold hard ground for the past day and a half. Not even feigning modesty, P.O hauled your legs up before tucking them under the blanket. Being concerned about him having caught a peek at your panties was the last thing on your mind. What was coming next? He had brought you to a seemingly secluded bedroom for what? You gulped.

A broad hand came to rest over your eyes. “Sleep,” he commanded, “No one will hurt you.” Though he said it kindly, you were still wary. As skeptical as you were, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. Fear and anxiety had kept your nerves supercharged and the cold had stopped you from being able to fall asleep. Exhaustion was finally catching up with you. You fought an uphill battle to stay conscious. It was worthless as you were already dozing when he removed his palm. You could faintly hear his steps gradually get further away and the door gently click shut.

When you awoke, there was a trace of moonlight illuminating the room. You couldn’t gauge how long you had been out, but you felt less like a wreck. Stretching a bit before you got up, you scanned the room. There was a light switch next to the exit. You tossed back the thick comforter and saw that P.O had taken off your heels for you. Unsteadily, you went to flick the lights on. After a moment of being blinded, you tried the door. It was locked. At this point, it wasn’t a surprise. In fact, it would have been careless to leave you able to roam. How? was the question. You wondered if there was some secret lock on the door. You sighed. You had traded one prison for another. At least this one was more inhabitable. The other doors caught your attention. Still too weak to move recklessly, you slowly made your way over to them.

The first of the two led to a huge closet that could have easily housed a second bedroom. Again, the light switch was conveniently placed right next to the door. In the light, you could clearly see that all four walls were lined with racks loaded with clothes. The top most racks held shirts while the ones beneath them bore pants. Shelves beneath the pants allowed for dozens of shoes to be neatly displayed. In the center of the closet stood a unit for sunglasses, watches, purses, and jewelry. A full length mirror leaned against a corner of the room and a small arm chair sat beside it. You were amazed. No, star struck would have been a better term for what you were feeling. Whoever all of it belonged to was incredibly rich, as you could spot a Chanel clutch even with your limited knowledge. Maybe one of those beasts did have a younger sister. One that they doted on. A lot.

You began to rustle through the closest rack like a shopper looking for a good sale item. Then it hit you. These were men’s clothes. You took another glance at the shoes to be sure. Not a single pair of heels in sight. It was all dress shoes, boots, and high-end sneakers. This closet belonged to a man. That had you even more flabbergasted. Carefully, as if not to show that you had been in there, you backed out and turned off the light. Taking a second to recover, you tried the second door. You grinned at the sight of a normal sized bathroom. Throwing back the frosted glass door to the shower, you screeched in joy at the sight of shampoo and conditioner. Not even thirty seconds later you were naked and fussing with the water temperature.

The warm water soothed your fatigued muscles as you worked the body wash into a lather over your skin. You were sure that the water ran black from all the eyeliner and mascara you were trying to scrub off. You popped open the shampoo and a familiar scent overcame you. It smelled like P.O. This was the shampoo you had smelled on him earlier. Your heart dropped into your stomach. This was his room. That was his closet and you were currently bathing in his shower. You held your breath in a weak attempt not to start hyperventilating.

Shaking, you quickly worked the shampoo and conditioner through your matted hair and grabbed a towel from the stack on the shelf above the toilet. Hurriedly, you wiped yourself dry and toweled off your hair as much as you could before wrapping the damp cloth around yourself. Hesitantly, you peeped out and released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the bedroom was still empty. Unwillingly to put back on your sweaty dress, you slipped into P.O’s closet. You clicked your tongue when you found that even his pajamas were hung up. They were all far too big for you but you rolled up the pant legs and sleeves and put them on anyway. Forgoing underwear was new for you, but you had little choice.

Seeing as how the only exit was locked and neither the bathroom nor the closet had locks on them, you decided to get back into bed. There was nowhere to hide. What seemed like forever passed and no one even came to check up on you. P.O’s promise of no one hurting you rolled around in your head. He had given you food and water and even carried you when you couldn’t walk. Yes, it was only after that they had figured out that you weren’t a threat did the kindness come, but it was kindness that they honestly did not need to extend to you. He had even brought you to his room. Why? And why were they still keeping you even though they knew that you weren’t tied to any gangs? Thoughts continued to come but somehow you managed to fall back asleep even though your mind seemed to be wide awake.

Body heavy with sleep, you stirred. As you went to rub your eyes you froze. An unfamiliar weight had settled over the dip of your waist. As quietly as your panic would allow, you turned over. You came face to face with a sleeping P.O. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, telling you that he had been there for some time. Carefully, you removed his arm from around you. Shifting towards the edge of the bed, you sat up painstakingly slow to make sure you didn’t wake him. Almost tripping over the unfolded hem of your pants, you stood. Once again, there was no pain between your legs and you sighed in relief. Holding up your pants, you tiptoed towards the door. You hadn’t made it three meters before you heard a deep voice growl, “It’s locked.” Like a deer in headlights, you glanced backwards. P.O sat with his back against the headboard and his arms crossed over his chest. He smirked and you knew you were in trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

P.O smugly smirked at you, as if your weak attempt at escape amused him. Not knowing what to do, you stood blankly halfway between the door and the bed. P.O watched you carefully, wondering what your next move would be. Honestly, you were trapped. You had been a hostage since you had that first sip of mojito. There was nowhere to go and zero chance of winning a physical fight with P.O. Pushing the dismay to the back of your mind, you mustered the courage to ask, “What do you want with me?” Completely ignoring you, he inquired, “Did you sleep well last night?” Thrown by his response, you continued to stare confusedly at him.

As if he did this all the time, P.O patted the empty space besides him. “Come back to bed. There’s still a few hours before we have to be up.” “Up for what?” you immediately questioned. He simply gave you one of those heart-shaped smiles of his. The only difference was that this one was laced with drowsiness. “Come on,” he whined and smoothed over the sheets with his hand. What to make of this situation? You quickly went over your options in your head. You could still try for the door and risk getting mauled by a sleepy P.O or you could do what he said and climb back into bed with the enemy. Neither sounded very attractive. So you stood, not willing to go either way. Too slow on the decision making, P.O begrudgingly threw back the covers and slid off the bed. Without missing a beat, he scooted his feet into the green monkey slippers waiting for him right at the side of the bed. Alarms rang in your head as he approached. You had no idea what his intentions were and you weren’t looking forward to whatever you had to be up later for. The panic from earlier slammed into you again as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist. He dragged you towards the blankets and more out of reflex than anything else, you ripped yourself from his grip, taking a defensive step backwards.

Stunned by your sudden aggression, P.O turned to face you. He looked like an overgrown child in his wrinkled pajamas and tousled hair. An expression of off offense was quickly replaced by one of irritation and you knew that you had crossed the line. P.O roughly grabbed you by the arm and flung you to the bed. Knowing better than to resist this time, you let yourself fall limply. Like a repeat of the night before, he hauled your legs up before tucking you in. He walked around the bed and reclaimed his spot as you went as stiff as a plank of wood. You stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. He didn’t move closer to you and only shifted to get comfortable on his side of the bed. “We don’t have any spare bedrooms, so just relax and sleep. I won’t hurt you,” he said gently. Without turning your head, you peered at him from the corner of your eye. He was looking at you too. “I promise,” he added before his eyes fluttered shut. And for some inexplicable reason, you believed him.

While you were too vigilant to relax enough to fall back asleep, you remained oddly calm as you watched the rhythmic rise and fall of P.O chest. He obviously didn’t see you as a threat, to let you sleep in his bed with him and be able to sleep so soundly. He said that you needed to be up in a few hours. You ruminated on that phrase as you laid there. What could he have possibly meant? No, you knew what he meant. They had at last decided what they were going to do with you. It was time that they decided whether or not they would kill you. Were they letting you be comfortable one last time? Or could you place your trust in P.O, and hope that they weren’t going to harm you? It seemed like your constant anxiety was the only thing you could count on.

It was well past daybreak when P.O finally stirred. Groggily, he moaned, his voice more gravelly than normal. When he made it into a sitting position, you had to stifle giggling at his bed head and swollen cheeks. Your fear had made you forget that you had been attracted to him that night in the club. While he was no longer that mysteriously sexy man wandering the dance floor, he was still quite cute. Though he already knew that you were awake, he shook you by the shoulder.

Having hours to over think, you had come to the conclusion that whatever was going to happen was going to happen no matter what you did. You were in what seemed to be the home base for a gang and if they wanted you dead, you would be dead. You had no control of what was to come next. You would either live or die. Accepting that was your only choice. So you resigned yourself to your fate and promised that you would go proudly if it came to that. If by some miracle, they wanted to let you live, then you would try not to mess that up. “Time to go,” P.O announced. Nodding, you got up and rubbed the drowsiness from your face with your sleeve. “Cute,” P.O grumbled. Thinking you must have misheard, you snapped your attention to him. He smiled knowingly at you before getting out of bed. Flabbergasted at the abrupt compliment, you could only watch as he shuffled into his slippers.

“Come on,” he waved you over. Shaking the stun from your system, you rose. You nearly tripped on the long hem of your borrowed pants before bending down to roll them back up. P.O waited patiently for you at the door. Though you had decided to go along for the ride, you still approached him warily. He pulled a key from his sweatpants pocket. He stuck it in the keyhole on the knob and you realized that the door probably automatically locked when it closed and could only be opened with a key. The whole design seemed ridiculous and more trouble than it’s worth. But maybe for criminals it came in handy.

P.O led you down the prettily wallpapered hallway to the lift. There was no button to press to call for it you noted. Not that it mattered, because it arrived moments after you had stepped in front of it. There was probably a motion sensor somewhere on the wall that you couldn’t see. P.O hit the button for level two once the both of you had clamored in. You tried to keep your mind clear as you began your descent. Thinking would only lead to fear and you had your fill of that the past few days. If you survived this, you doubted much else would ever scare you. Avoiding eye contact, you studied your bare toes. P.O didn’t may you any mind and was visibly relaxed, going so far as yawning. 

You tried to control your breathing to stop yourself from hyperventilating as the elevator came to a halt. Keeping your mind blank was a difficult task as you knew you were about to come face to face with either your end or a chance at having a future. The doors opened and P.O stepped out. You silently followed. This hallway was carpeted and had beige colored walls, giving it a cozier feel than the other two floors you had been on. The carpeting was plush enough that your feet sunk comfortably into it. Leading you straight into a large living room, P.O greeted the other two men in the room. The DJ and the bartender sat on the off-white L-shaped sectional in the middle of the room. They faced a huge flat screen TV mounted on the wall that had at least five game consoles and a DVD player neatly arranged underneath it. The TV was framed by two skinny bookcases that housed dozens of games and DVDs. Quickly glancing around, you could see the speakers strategically placed to give a surround sound feel. Behind the couch, there was a small kitchen. It was just big enough to fit two people but had all the necessary appliances for whipping up a proper meal. The kitchen was cut off from the main room by a long counter that was lined by three tall stools.

Your heart stuttered at the sight of the bartender. Reflexively, you half hid behind P.O. He glanced back at you in confusion before pulling you out in front of him. With wide eyes, you met the inquisitive stares of the bartender and the DJ. They were already dressed in street wear, which didn’t help the feeling of wanting to turn around and make a mad dash for it. “She looks good in men’s clothes,” the DJ commented with a flirtatious smile. You recoiled, not liking the unwarranted advances or the way the bartender frowned at you. “Sit,” P.O ordered and gave you a push towards the sofa. You locked up, forcing P.O to pull you down with him as he took a seat. He had at least enough sense to sit between you and the rest of your captors. Though you could still see them obviously watching you, it was relieving to have P.O as a physical barrier.

No introductions were made. Not that you expected them, it was better all around that you didn’t know their names. “Shall we have a cup of coffee before we get to business?” the DJ suggested. Wordlessly, the bartender stood and headed for the kitchen. While you had survived the cookie and the water, you didn’t trust the man who had drugged you to get you a drink. “Don’t look so stiff,” the DJ cooed, “We don’t bite…much.” You grimaced, not liking the whole odd situation.

The coffee was of the instant variety, so it wasn’t long before the bartender returned with a tray of steaming cups in hand. He kneeled next to the coffee table and set the cups in front of their owners before carrying his own back to his seat with him. The DJ took a sip before speaking, “We’ve decided to let you go.” Like an idiot, you stared without comprehending. “What?” you blurted before you could stop yourself. The bartender scoffed, making you feel even stupider. P.O placed a hand on your knee, a silent command for you to shut up before you dug yourself into a hole.

“We don’t hurt civilians if we can avoid it,” the DJ explained, tone far more serious than previously. “My dear, it seems like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he added. “But,” the bartender intervened, “that doesn’t mean that we can just let you go without some safety measures.” Slowly, you processed the new information. This is what you had been hoping for but now that it was actually happening, you couldn’t tell if it was reality or your mind finally cracking under the stress. As the gears turned in your head, the bartender went on, “We’re going to set some ground rules. If you don’t follow these rules, we won’t hesitate to kill you.” The DJ smiled proudly before taking another swig of his coffee. Swallowing hard, you nodded, not trusting your voice to hold up enough to give an affirmative. After placing his mug down on the table, the DJ’s face turned eerily somber. His thick eyebrows slightly furrowed and his pink lips were set into a taut line. You were smart enough to realize that they were willing to kill you right here if you showed them anything less than complete compliance.

“Firstly, you don’t know us. You don’t know our faces and you will not acknowledge us if you see us.” It was the DJ who spoke this time. A quick peek at P.O told you that he was going to remain quiet. P.O’s expression was a mix of dead seriousness and the caffeine not hitting him fast enough. “Verbally agree,” the bartender barked. “Yes,” you replied weakly. “Good. Secondly, don’t ever come back to our club. In fact, stay out of our territory,” the DJ growled, as if he wasn’t trying to hit on you five minutes ago. One would have mistaken this authoritarian as a completely different man. “Yes,” you responded. The dark look in the DJ’s eye as he spoke scared you. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was the leader of this oddball band of thugs. “Lastly, we have nothing to do with you and you have nothing to do with us. We are not associated in any way. We will not answer if you call for us. We will not save you if you ask for help. From this point on, we are strangers and this whole weekend never happened.” “Okay,” you agreed, not having any qualms with the conditions thus far. The last thing you needed was to be caught up in a situation like this again. “You know what the consequences will be if you fail to follow these rules, right?” the DJ asked solemnly. “Yes,” you answered.

“Aren’t you going to drink your coffee?” the bartender asked without warning. Your breath caught in your throat like a fish bone. Your cup had remained untouched since it was placed in front of you, and you had planned for it to stay that way. “Drink it,” the bartender ordered. Even P.O looked at you expectantly as you hesitated. Would they go through the trouble of lecturing you on the terms of your freedom if they planned on poisoning you anyway? Why waste the time? They could just shoot you or stab you; it would be a lot faster and far more efficient.

Unwilling to risk your release, you took the mug and blew away some of the steam. If you had been paying attention, you wouldn’t have missed the subtly interested looks that all three men watched you with. If a cup of coffee was the key to getting back home, then so be it. You took a hefty gulp of the hot liquid and almost burned your tongue before setting the cup back down. P.O chuckled and you piqued an eyebrow in curiosity. It took a few seconds for you to realize why he was laughing. You really needed to stop accepting drinks from that damned bartender because the next thing you knew the world was getting hazy and your eyelids were growing heavier. Whatever he had given you this time worked a hell of a lot quicker and within a minute you were slumped into P.O unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

Awakening with a sharp gasp, you bolted upright and instantly regretted it. The world spun nauseatingly. You slowly eased your way back down to lie on your side in case you actually did vomit. The way your heart was racing only made you feel even worse. After your tachycardia slowed a bit, you found it in you to crack an eye. Air caught in your lungs when you recognized the second-hand television less than five meters away. You were in your apartment, lying haphazardly across your shabby couch. A strange mix of fear and relief filled you and brought tears to your eyes.

You had made it home alive. Sure, it bothered you that they knew where you lived and even more disturbing was the fact that they had delivered you directly into the confines of your only safe heaven. However, the conditions of your freedom had you hopeful that you would never have to be concerned about seeing those gangsters ever again. Just as you were beginning to relax, the sound of fast approaching footsteps had you tense once more. “Hey!” a squeaky voice called out. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize that you had been holding, you let the tears fall. Hyuna rounded on you, anger clearly etched on her sleepy face.

“Where have you been?!” she practically screamed. Seeing you crying seemed to douse the fire a bit as she carefully moved your feet aside to sit on the sofa next to you. You didn’t have enough confidence to raise your head without retching, so you stared straight ahead. “Are you okay?” she asked, placing a gentle hand atop your knee. “Yeah, give me a second,” you replied, nearly choking on the words due to your dry throat. “Water,” you croaked. Hyuna was up and off so quickly, you thought she had stepped on a tack. She handed you a glass of cold tap water and you took it gratefully, raising yourself on your elbow to drink it. The tears still flowed like a leaky faucet but that was the least of your problems at the moment. “You’ve been missing since Saturday. It’s Tuesday. Why haven’t you answered your phone?” she questioned. You processed the information. Three days. You had been gone for three full days. Time wasn’t something you were aware of during your captivity since you had no access to a clock and each second seemed to last a lifetime. “I was so worried!” Hyuna commented, her hand tightening around your flesh as if to make sure you wouldn’t leave again.

Sitting up as fast as you could tolerate, you took a long draw of water to buy yourself some time. Part of you just wanted to tell her everything, to let it all out and have her console you. The more reasonable part of your brain knew better than to endanger both you and Hyuna. You had barely survived this time around; you doubt they would be so lenient a second time. Anyways, the whole thing was so farfetched that Hyuna would probably think that you were making it up. Even if she did believe you, she’d probably want to go to the police and that was a guaranteed death sentence. Swiping at your eyes after setting your glass down on the small coffee table, you ran through a short list of believable lies that were simple enough to sustain. You went with the easiest and said, “I met a guy.” “Anyone can see that!” Hyuna shot back, each word punctuated with a slap to some portion of your fatigued body. Oh, right. You were still in P.O’s pajamas. “Why didn’t you come back on Sunday?” she pressed.

Trying your hardest not to groan at her persistence, you formulated a back story even though a pounding headache was drumming up at the base of your neck. Did they really have to use drugs to knock you out? The after effects required a recovery period that Hyuna wasn’t allowing you time for. “We went on a trip,” you sputtered. “A trip with a stranger?!” she screeched and slapped your arm hard. Grimacing, you realized that even your lie was fantastical. “He…was very convincing,” you mumbled and looked away, finding it easier to make things up when you weren’t making eye contact. “A straight A student like you went on a trip with a random guy you met at the club,” she summarized in disbelief. “You’re always telling me to live a little!” you fired back, the conversation going on too long already. “That’s so dangerous!” she remarked. You reached out and downed the rest of your water. The sound of your pulse in your ear was making it difficult to concentrate.

“I know, I know, and I won’t do it again. It was one weekend.” Tone softening, she asked, “Why are you crying?” “I’m just glad to be home,” you answered honestly, voice laden with exhaustion. “Did something happen between you and the guy?” You wished she would let it go but you humored her, knowing that you would grill her even harder if she went missing with so much as a text. “I liked him and we went to Jeju-do so I thought it was the start of something but it wasn’t.” “And you slept with him,” she stated more than asking. You wanted to deny it, to complete reject that you were so irresponsible to run off with some unidentified man that you had known for less than an hour and have sex with him. But you couldn’t. “Yes,” you responded weakly. Hyuna sighed in disappointment.

A prolonged moment of silence passed between you. “Are you okay?” she inquired finally. “I will be,” you answered resolutely, speaking to yourself more than to her. She squeezed you in a crushing hug before taking your empty glass to the kitchen. Lying back down, some of the tight pressure in the back of your skull lessened a fraction. Wondering how you would be able to return to school and pretend that everything was normal, you tucked a pillow under your head. The lecture halls below ground were going to be torture. Just the thought of it made you shudder. The couch dipped with Hyuna’s weight again and she placed her hand atop yours. “I’m here for you if you need me,” she offered quietly. You nodded, too tired to speak anymore. She left soon after you closed your eyes and for that you were grateful. Even your bones were devoid of strength at this point.

Walking across campus was an ordeal. The strong direct sunlight made you cringe and the loud bustle of the other student made you flinch so often that you wouldn’t be surprised if they thought that you were on drugs. The only way you made it was by clutching your backpack tight enough to your chest that your nails left indents in the fake leather and by repeatedly scanning your surroundings every few seconds. The excessive vigilance had you drained by noon. The mountain of school work you had missed didn’t help with your energy levels either. The library seemed like your only solace. You had found a quiet nook where two walls met without windows, so at least your back and one side of you didn’t need to be watched at all times. It allowed you to study in relative peace and get absorbed in your books so that you couldn’t think past what you were reading. Checking the time the sun set became a daily habit when you woke up, so you could make sure to never leave the library later than that. You had bought an additional deadbolt lock for the apartment door after winning an argument with Hyuna to change the lock you already had. Making sure to throw out the old doorknob and it’s matching keys, you frequently texted Hyuna to make sure both of the new locks were locked at all times.

From the crack of dawn to the onset of darkness, you only left the library to go to class. It was weird to think that the place that had gotten you into the mess in the first place was becoming more comfortable than your home. But for some reason, you trusted in the DJ’s words that they would avoid you. You hadn’t caught sight of any of them yet and hoped that would continue to be that case. It took you weeks to stop skittering around corners, cautious of what lurked around the bend. Burying yourself in books occupied your mind during the day but unease still filled your belly when you lay in bed at night. Sometimes you would roll over and still feel the cold cement pressed against your cheek. Spending so much time in the library seemed to pay off as you were offered a job there. The physical work of wandering through the aisles and putting books back on the shelves made your body tired enough that the nightly nightmares began to taper off.

Like that, a month passed. You had been waiting for something to trigger the trio’s appearance but nothing ever came. Gradually the fear engrained into your very being lessened. You even began to give small smiles to the student who checked out books. After another two weeks, you were able to walk outside with your head up instead of continuously evaluating the area. Another week allowed you to go to a café briefly for a cup of coffee with Gain. It seemed that time was allowing wounds to heal. You shouldn’t have let yourself ease back into a sense of normalcy. Nothing would ever be normal again.

It had taken quite a bit of time for you to feel relaxed enough to stay out past dusk. Though, even then, you knew better than to push it. Risking only a few minutes after sunset, you would remain at the library for as long as you dared once you had finished your shift to read some of the new arrivals. In retrospect, you had been lulled into a false sense of security. You only realized this on your way home.

It was just after 20:00, later than you had ever stayed out during the past two months. At the time it felt liberating to be able to walk around at night confidently. However, it was a mistake. But you guessed it didn’t matter, it would have happened anyways. You could admit that you didn’t live in the best part of town, but you never had any trouble. The dark alleyways never scared you and the empty storefronts never sent chills down your spine. Home was home and would always be home no matter who had entered your house. And just as you had tricked yourself into believing that, a hand shot out from around the corner you were about to turn. It gripped you hard by the collar and tugged. Back slammed against the brick wall, you began to panic.

Gripping your attacker’s wrists, you attempted to make out his face from under the baseball cap he wore. The familiar chuckle he gave made the blood freeze in your veins. You knew that laugh. Too frightened to yell for help, you reached out and brought your fists down as hard as you could on the inside of his elbows. The move broke his hold on you long enough for you to start running. Without looking back, you ran as fast as you could. Loud footsteps followed behind you, but you were too occupied with getting as far away as possible to be concerned about tracking your chaser.

They had promised you that they wouldn’t associate with you. They said they wouldn’t acknowledge you. But then why the hell was the bartender here? Why had he approached you? You didn’t know and honestly, you didn’t care right now. You just ran for dear life.

Home. You had to get home. That was the only thing you could think of and you repeated it in your head like a mantra. Calves burning from the sudden vigorous use, you sprinted through the front door of your building and up the stairs. The burning in your legs only slowed you a little as you did your best to ignore it. Glancing down the stairwell while trying not to lose your pace, you noted that there was no one behind you. Afraid of the consequences of stopping to recover, you continued on, only hesitating at your door. Hands shaking, you struggled to free your keys from your pocket as your eyes darted around, ensuring that you were still alone. Cursing when you dropped your keys, you fumbled to get all the locks unlocked.

 

Finally managing to get your door open, you only cracked it enough for you to slip through before slamming it closed behind you. After relocking the locks, you pressed your back against the door. Your heart was still pounding against your rib cage hard enough to hurt. The only noise in your apartment was your ragged breathing. Mind flooding with a million questions, you missed the telltale shuffle of another pair of feet.

Suddenly, light blinded you. After the sting of your pupils adjusting to the unexpected brightness passed, it took you a few blinks to understand what you were seeing. As if you had been hit with a brick, your legs gave out, leaving you to slide down to the floor. Your diaphragm contracted, not letting you take in any air at all. The DJ stood with his finger lingering on the light switch in the hallway. He had a triumphant smirk etched on his pretty face. You couldn’t help but notice the prominent dimple at the corner of his mouth. Throat too tight for you to scream, you could only gape in horror as he slowly approached.

His leather jacket and matching pants accentuated every flex of his muscles as he sauntered over. Already trapped against the door, there was no room left for you to scoot back further. Not that you had any strength left in your body to attempt movement. The tip of his black boot tapped against your sneaker when he squatted down to eye level. The moment was reminiscent of when he had come to see you in the basement cuffed to the radiator. You had to refocus on his face after your eyes caught a glimpse of chest that his loose white tee afforded. His hair was a damp mess. It hadn’t rained that day and you didn’t want to think about what he would have been doing to make him work up that much of a sweat.

A carefully restrained hand gripped your jaw, nails biting into the soft skin of your cheek. He smiled a sinister smile with his eyebrows furrowed. “You little rat,” he spat, his voice low. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You were in a dilemma; that much was obvious. Though you had no idea what you had done, now was not the time to be running through rules you might have broken. His fingers held you harder to the point where you wouldn’t have been surprised if he broke skin. However, the pain wasn’t your main concern. You would live through a little blood but you weren’t sure that you would make it through what came next.

“Did you think you could hide it from us?” he asked too calmly. You tried to scan his eyes for the meaning of his words and came up short. A loud thumping at the door that you could actually feel against your back diverted both of your attentions. Rising cautiously to his feet again, he clicked his tongue in distaste. Clearly in gangster mode rather than flirtatious club DJ, he used his foot to shove you out of the way.

He threw the door open, wedging you behind it. A loud clack had you snapping your head up. The DJ was staring down the barrel of a gun with a silencer attached to it. Your heart dropped when a familiar high-pitched voice said, “Long time no see, B-bomb.”


	6. Chapter 6

Not even flinching when Hyuna approached, the DJ raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he said. The gun was clearly visible now as the only thing separating you from Hyuna was the door. “Oh, but we have,” she replied. Trying to make his face unreadable, the DJ rearranged his features into a blank expression. Your heart was pounding so hard that you could hear it in your ears. Confused beyond belief, you sat stiffly, unable to move.

“I guess you’d remember my brother more than me,” Hyuna commented, finger steady on the trigger. The DJ smirked and his dimple made an appearance. “So you’re the little sister?” he asked more to himself than to anyone else. You had to hand it to him, he was nothing but calm even though there was a gun currently being pointed between his brows. Not once had his eyes strayed in your direction, keeping your presence hidden. “Yes, now where is she?!” Hyuna barked. You could hear the carefully restrained anger in her voice. Smile growing, the DJ’s gaze held an unspoken challenge.

“Answer me,” she demanded evenly. Your head was completely white as you were only barely able to process the situation, let alone think. The fog clouding your mind cleared when a gruff voice called out, “Hey!” Hyuna’s head reflexively snapped in the direction of the shout. Taking advantage of the distraction, the DJ didn’t hesitate to curl his hand back and punch Hyuna squarely in the gut. Instantly furious, you popped up. Red flashed across your vision and you darted towards the DJ. How dare he hit your best friend?! The wind knocked out of her, Hyuna doubled over, shifting back into the hallway. Loud footsteps echoed and you glanced back. Suddenly, P.O was standing next to her. He reached for her hair and that was the last thing you saw before the DJ hoisted you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

Finally finding your voice, you screeched. Hands and feet flailing, you tried to land at least one decent hit on him. As you tried to lift your head while also fighting back, the DJ slapped the back of your thighs hard. You couldn’t even feel the sting past your rage. Hyuna suddenly screamed and you frantically tried to locate her. However, it seemed that the DJ had other plans. He took off at a sprint. His shoulder dug into your abdomen painfully. Wincing, you had to hold on to the hem of his jacket to avoid smacking your head against his back. Barely managing to raise your face up enough, you caught a glimpse of Hyuna’s still body sprawled across the hallway floor. P.O stood threateningly above her. Desperately, you called out to her. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes when she didn’t respond.

You heard more than felt the blow to your bottom. The situation caught up to you as the DJ dashed down the stairs. They were back, Hyuna had a gun, and she recognized the DJ. Why? What was going on? Though you were confused beyond belief, you refused to cry. You had already shown them too much weakness. Bursting through the door of your apartment complex, you were met by the brisk evening air. The hands around your legs tightened as an unmarked black van pulled up in front of the building. Now out in the open, things were more risky, but this was your last chance. You screamed as loud as you could, hoping that someone, anyone, would take your cry for help seriously. Ripping the door open, the DJ carelessly tossed you in. Throat aching, you refused to stop yelling even as you took the impact with your shoulder. The van door slammed shut with finality behind the DJ, sharply cutting of your voice. He kicked impatiently at you to move over with the tips of his shoes and you wiggled out of the way. The van had been gutted, leaving an empty back and only the driver’s and passenger’s seats. A mop of light brown hair was visible below the driver’s headrest.

Curling your knees to your chest protectively, you wrapped your arms around your head as the van lurched forward to avoid getting a concussion. The engine revved loudly and you could tell that the vehicle wasn’t used to this much action. Fear slowly trickled up your spine. You knew were in trouble, but for what you had no clue. Even more disconcerting was what had just taken place with Hyuna. However, at the moment all you could think about was your safety. You were acutely aware of the DJ staring down at you from where he held on to one of the ceiling handles left intact. Cautiously sitting up, you intentionally avoided eye contact. Nails cutting into your palms, you did everything you could not to tremble.

They had been kind enough to allow you to have this discussion in the living room instead of re-imprisoning you. The bartender paced the room and was unnervingly quiet. The DJ sat in the recliner to your right. His elbows rested on his knees and he stayed looking straight ahead. You could practically see the gears grinding away in his mind. Picking at your cuticles, you shredded your nail bed as you waited. Loudly, P.O entered, leaving the door to shake in it’s frame. Everyone’s attention snapped to him. “What the hell was that?!” he roared. “Calm down. Now that you’re here, we can find out,” he DJ replied evenly, “But first, did you take care of her?” “Unconscious, but uninjured,” P.O answered. You breath caught at the reference to Hyuna. Uninjured he said, at least she was okay. “Good,” the leather-clad man acknowledged before setting his sights on you. “____, do you know AOMG?” he inquired. You shook your head no. The bartender didn’t seem to like your answer and shouted, “Stop lying!” Flinching, you bit down on your lip, restraining yourself from crying.

The bartender growled and the DJ raised his hand in a gesture to silence him. “That girl earlier, was her name Hyuna?” the DJ continued. You hesitated, debating whether or not to answer truthfully. Taking too long to answer, the bartender stomped over and grabbed you by your hair. Hands flying up to protect your scalp, the DJ called out, “Stop U-Kwon!” Unwillingly, the bartender released you, but not before throwing your head roughly to the side. Teeth grit, he backed away. “Is her name Hyuna?” the DJ repeated more firmly. It was clear that they already knew the answer but they still wanted you to confirm it. You nodded slowly.

“How much do you know about her?” the DJ asked. They had moved on from yes or no questions and you weren’t sure you were ready for that. P.O had been oddly silent the whole time and you dared to steal a glance at him. He was watching you with a hard glare. Heart stuttering in your chest, you realized that you were in more trouble than you knew. “Seeing as how you want to continue to play dumb, let me break some things down for you. We had let you go on the condition that you wouldn’t be a problem for us. That was all fine and dandy until we found out that you were living with the sister of the leader of our rival gang. We can’t have you holding information on us while fraternizing with the enemy. As of now, you should consider yourself a prisoner of war. It would be a waste to kill you since you can be used as collateral,” the DJ explained.

He was speaking, that you were sure of, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying. Blinking repeatedly, you stared at him blankly. He smirked and that god-forsaken dimple of his could be seen. “It seems that this is news to you,” he commented. You nodded, eyes darting around as you processed his words. They were saying that Hyuna was the sister of a gang leader. The sister of their rival gang’s leader. The thought was so ludicrous that you actually began to laugh out loud. Taken aback by your sudden outburst, the three mean watched you in uncertainty. “Okay okay, I know this whole situation is ridiculous, but Hyuna? Hyuna? Related to a gang?” you questioned loudly between chuckles. Their faces hardened and it was then that your giggles turned into sobs.

You cried hysterically, both not believing that Hyuna was tied to a gang and being forced to believe them considering that you were now back in captivity. Confusion made your head spin and you slid off of the couch and onto the floor in fear that you would vomit. You held you head in your hands and didn’t care how unsightly you were being. You were scared, incredibly scared. Their accusations had you second guessing one of the very few people you could trust unconditionally and you couldn’t handle it in combination with the fear of losing your life. P.O ran a hand through his hair and the bartender scoffed. The current situation was less than ideal for all parties involved.


	7. Chapter 7

You sat on P.O’s bed, arms wrapped around your folded legs and head resting on your knees. The hysterics had come and gone and all that was left was a steady stream of tears running down your face. It seemed that not knowing anything had worked in your favor because they let you stay in P.O’s room instead of locking you up again. A girl in shock was no threat to them.

Overthinking had made your mind numb. Not that trying to figure things out was going to help any, since nothing made sense anyway. Staring straight ahead blankly, you didn’t even flinch when P.O entered. He tossed a water bottle your way and it landed at your bare feet. Not even glancing at it, you kept you gaze steady on the wall in front of you. P.O spoke, but it sounded muffled, like your ears had been stuffed with cotton. Sighing at your lack of response, P.O ran a hand through his hair and quietly took a seat at the edge of the bed. His movement barely registered with you. At this point, you weren’t sure what was reality and what was part of this horror novel you had been written into.

“Drink,” P.O ordered, his deep voice close enough to rattle the air around you so that you could actually hear him. “You’ll get dehydrated from all that crying,” he commented. Fleetingly, you looked at the water bottle then side-eyed the man who had attacked your best friend. His back was to you as he leaned back on his hands. You briefly contemplated how easy it would be to stab him right then if you had a knife. Suddenly scared by your own thoughts, you shook your head to vanquish such ideas. “You should consider yourself lucky, it’s not every day we personally come to retrieve someone,” he said. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or if he was being serious.

Finally turning to look at you, he pushed the bottle closer to you. It touched you skin and you could tell it had spent some time in the freezer. A chill crawled up your spine as you recalled how he had forced you to drink during your last session of captivity and basically choked you. Not particularly wanting to relive that, you picked the bottle up slowly. His eyes followed your every movement with mild suspicion. Feeling some relief when you twisted the cap and it cracked, you took a tentative sip. It was startlingly cold to your raw esophagus but soothing enough for you to take another large gulp. Pleased, P.O gave you a lopsided smirk.

Warily, you sighed. The smiled slipped from P.O’s face as you rested you head on your knees again and recapped the water. “What’s going on?” you asked more to yourself than to him. He didn’t answer. “Am I going to have to quit school?” At that, he laughed heartily. “Is that what you’re worried about?” he questioned. No, you wanted to say. Fear had you biting your tongue. There were a million other things that you were worried about but didn’t have the courage to say them out loud. School just happened to be the first thing that you could squeeze out. As if to console you, he said, “I’ll see what I can do about you finishing the semester.” You didn’t dare ask about the next semester. Anyways, it seemed like he was only just saying it and wasn’t actually going to try to help you. Why would he? They had laid it all out earlier, you were a prisoner of their gang war.

“What…what is going to happen now?” you vaguely inquired. You made sure to leave the question open-ended enough for P.O to answer however he wanted to. Some information was better than none. Taking his time to formulate a response, he leaned down to untie his shoes. “You can sleep in my room for now. I’ll sleep in one of the others’ rooms,” was all you got out of him. You nodded, knowing to be grateful. Unexpectedly, P.O spoke again, “How much do you actually know?” Too tired to play mind games, you laid back and decided to be honest. Your hair fell across your face and tickled your nose as you said, “Nothing. I know nothing. I didn’t even know Hyuna was tied to a gang. I though you guys were my first and last meeting with the underworld.”

Kicking off his stylish wingtips, P.O also laid back. He was tall, so his head ended up resting on your belly. You didn’t even care. All you wanted to do was rewind time to before Ga-in’s birthday and choose not to go out that night with them. “You must have some terrible luck,” P.O murmured. You chuckled and couldn’t help but agree. How many people get kidnapped by thugs not once, but twice? A peaceful moment of silence passed before he said, “You know, we’re the same age.” You scoffed. What was with him? He was suddenly initiating skinship and letting you know that you were the same age. If you didn’t know better, you would have guessed that he was trying to get closer to you. But that couldn’t be right. He was one of the head members of a gang, someone who didn’t hesitate to drug and torture you. And you hadn’t even done anything wrong. You dreaded to imagine what they would have done if you were guilty of something.

You didn’t see it, but P.O was frowning. “As long as you listen, you won’t get hurt,” he said, “We don’t harm innocents.” You weren’t sure how much to believe that, but seeing as how you had yet to acquire even a single scratch this time around, you guessed you were fairly safe for now. “Okay,” you softly acknowledged. “Have you eaten?” P.O inquired. As if to answer, your stomach growled right then. There was no hiding how you hadn’t even had a snack since lunch as P.O’s ear was directly above your belly. “Do you like chicken?” he asked.

Towel drying your hair after showering, you found another pair of oversized pajamas at the foot of the bed. P.O had brought you a small cardboard box of fried chicken and bread before wishing you a goodnight. You ate alone and decided to shower before sleeping. Apparently, he had come back at some point to lay out clothes for you. You dressed and put back on your underwear from earlier. The blankets faintly smelled of the man they belonged to you mused as you covered yourself with them. They had dubbed you a prisoner, but this treatment seemed more befitting of a guest. However, you knew better than to voice such sentiments. Other than not half freezing on the floor, the nice thing about this time was that you were a bargaining piece. That meant that until you proved to be useless, your life wasn’t in danger. You were worth something and needed to be kept safe and in relatively good condition. With that in mind, you fell asleep and hoped that it would be a dreamless night.

The morning came quicker than you expected. Awakening to a room bathed in sunlight, you were surprised to feel as refreshed as you did. At what point had you become comfortable enough to actually sleep in a gang’s hideout? Or were you just that exhausted? You weren’t sure which. Brushing your hair out of your face with your fingers, you stretched your arms over your head. There were important logarithms you were missing, but you had more pressing problems. Making out of the lion’s den was going to be a challenge. Rolling over, you untucked yourself from the cocoon of blankets you had created. Neither worried about frostbite or starving, you could think clearly.

Hyuna was a part of the underworld and you hadn’t the slightest clue. Though your initial reaction was stun and disbelief, the image of her pointing a gun at the DJ was imprinted in your mind.  
Now all you were feeling was betrayed. You regarded her as your best friend, and as such, you thought that there was no room for secrets. Remembering how sure she was in her stance, you wondered how she had kept it hidden for so long. You figured that she probably had habits you never realized were remnants from her upbringing. To think that she had withheld such important information hurt. Though you couldn’t blame her for not telling you, you always told her everything. It felt like you had just found out that your husband never loved you. It sucked, the whole situation sucked.

What was going to happen now? As far as you knew, they had left Hyuna knocked out in the hallway. Someone was bound to find her, if not a good Samaritan, then one of her brother’s lackeys. That didn’t worry you. It was what came next that concerned you. Though they had determined that you could be used as collateral, you doubted you were worth much to Hyuna’s brother. Though she often mentioned him in passing, you had never actually seen him, let alone met him. There was no way you were significant enough for him to pay whatever price P.O’s gang demanded. Just as you had predicted, getting out of this one alive was going to be far more difficult.

You had let go of your greed for living during your last stint in the hideout. If you lived, you lived and would be thankful. You wouldn’t be fearful of a death sentence. You had learned how taxing fear was. Drifting back to Hyuna, you were a bit worried about her safety in the long run. They had discovered her through you, and seeing as how she had done such an excellent job of covering her tracks, that probably posed a threat to her. Luckily she had backup. “Unlike me,” you thought. Yeah, you should probably be fretting more over yourself rather than worrying about others.

Flipping back onto your tummy, you kicked your legs in frustration. “Are you trying to be cute?” a smooth voice asked. Your heart stopped for a second. “Because it just might work.” Peeking at the doorway, you saw the DJ grinning with his arms folded. Even though he had dimples, he managed to look like a dreamy bad boy rather than a cute kid. How he was able to do that you still didn’t know. You quickly sat up as he approached. Throwing off the covers, you rushed to get off of the bed. Though the DJ was charming, you were acutely aware of how dangerous he could be. His attractiveness was probably what lured people in so that he could finish them off. Faster than you, he was already pushing you down by your shoulders just as you stood. Gaping, you sat back down. You trusted P.O somewhat, but you didn’t particularly enjoy the DJ’s dual personality. “You should be careful who you show that cuteness to. You just might tempt a man,” he said with a smirk. It couldn’t be clearer that he was a player. But he was right. You needed to be more careful, especially around him.

Cautiously, you eyed him. He searched your face wordlessly. His silence unnerved you. Without warning, he leaned in. Reflexively, you leaned away. Even from such a short distance, he was handsome. You wondered how that face of his hadn’t been messed up in this business. “It’s such a waste to give you back. You’d bring in big money with your looks,” he commented and patted your head. Though you had an idea about what he was referring to, you didn’t want to dwell on it. “Give me back?” you asked with as little intonation as possible. Giving them any clue as to how were you were feeling was disadvantageous. “It’s time for you to go back home princess.”


	8. Chapter 8

Foot deep in sand, you were grateful that it wasn’t summer otherwise your skin would have felt like it was on fire as soon as you stepped on the beach. It was neutral territory they informed you on the ride over. The DJ had told you to get dressed and be ready in ten minutes before he left P.O’s room that morning. When you walked into the living room, there were a dozen men dressed in black and were carrying what appeared to be military grade weaponry. Your legs almost gave way then you saw a belt of bullets strapped across one of their chests. You wanted to run away but there was not enough strength left in your entire body to take another step.

Leisurely, the bartender was pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. P.O sat on the couch with his legs crossed and looking like he was in deep thought. The DJ wandered behind the row of men. You noted that the trio appeared to be unarmed. But you knew that couldn’t be the case if their underlings were so heavily decked out. Gulping, you stood stiffly. You couldn’t decide what the better option was, trying to escape back into the bedroom or staying here and pretending that you didn’t exist. In your hesitation, P.O saw you and approached. Unable to stop yourself, you took a step back when he came close.

He paused for a moment when you stared wide-eyed at him. He maintained a blank expression and grabbed you by the arm. Tugging, he pulled you into his chest. Maybe you should have been more concerned with the sudden contact, but you were focused on the small army on standby. You didn’t feel the metal around your wrist until you heard the telltale snap. P.O had handcuffed you to him. He lifted his hand to test the connection and nodded in satisfaction when your arm followed his movement. You grew short of breath as panic set in.

P.O gripped your shoulder and pushed you towards the door. “Time to go, Princess,” the DJ said from somewhere in the room and then there was a large hand covering your eyes. Confused, you almost locked up when a shove hit your back. But the offender was stronger than you and you staggered when he forced you to continue walking. The resistance of the cuffs if you strayed too far assured you that you were still attached to P.O. The elevator ride seemed to take forever and you couldn’t tell if it was going up or down with the constant jerking.

You stumbled along as blindly with the makeshift eye mask. Your every move was made with great care and you were going too slowly for P.O’s taste, so he kept nudging you. You hadn’t put on your shoes and only slightly regretted the oversight as it allowed you to tell when you went from linoleum flooring to cement. “We’re getting into a car,” P.O warned and placed the hand you were connected to on top of your head to urge you to duck. Grateful for the direction, you crouched as P.O helped you from behind into what seemed to be an SUV. No one assisted you even as you patted down the seat for a seatbelt. Unable to locate it, you gave up and sat back, blinking through the darkness. Swaying as the car made numerous turns, you were unsure of they were doing it on purpose to disorient you or if the destination was somewhere hard to find. Either way, it was a fairly lengthy trip.

If you had to estimate, you would have said that it was about fifteen minutes before P.O uncovered your eyes. Pupils taking a moment to adjust to the unexpected brightness, you took stock of the DJ driving, the bartender in the front passenger’s seat, and P.O sitting beside you. The car zoomed along the highway. Though the view was scenic, you were more interested in how luxurious the interior of the SUV was. You shouldn’t have been surprised though, considering their career choice. They had said that it was time for you to go home but this route was completely unfamiliar. Your jaw tensed with worry. You had no idea what was going on.

The DJ exited off the highway and it wasn’t long before he was turning on to a beach. A lump of anxiety dropped into your belly as the sight of at least ten silver vehicles in the parking lot. No two were the same and would have been easy to lose in traffic if they weren’t grouped together like this. You didn’t know who they belonged to, but they gave you an ominous feeling. The DJ bypassed the lot and drove straight onto the sand. The sun was just above the horizon and there was a glare, but you could make out the silhouettes of three people standing at the water’s edge. “Hyuna…” you breathed when you got close enough to see their faces. She was flanked by two men, one taller than the other, and the shorter one resembling a small hulk.

The car stopped not far from the trio and you could see how the expressions of the men in the car hardened. Just from that alone, you could tell that one of Hyuna’s entourage was her brother. Now you understood why you had been handcuffed to P.O. You were not only collateral, you were also insurance that they wouldn’t get hurt or at least sustain only minimal injuries. With an unspoken signal, your captors got out of the car. P.O pulled you along with him. Though they slammed the doors shut behind them, you took note of the keys still in the ignition and the engine still running.

Your bare feet sunk into the sand as you approached the shore. The sound of another car door shutting had you glancing back. A large group of men clad in black and wearing sunglasses lined the stone wall separating the parking lot from the beach. The air in your lungs turned into lead. You realized that you were in the center of a warzone. There were so many of them and they were all visibly armed. You couldn’t tell which side they belonged to either. P.O tugged on your link before you could think about it more. You continued to walk until the DJ stopped just short of Hyuna. The formation you stood in didn’t escape you. The bartender and the DJ were a meter ahead of you and P.O but they stood slightly off to either side. It allowed you to be protected in all situations, including having to make a run for it.

The two men with Hyuna didn’t look like they belonged to the realm of average people. The shorter one had tattoos covering what appeared to be his whole body, his knuckles no exception. His face was the only part of him without ink, but even that had a nose piercing that caught the fading sunlight and sparkled. The taller one was significantly skinner with a gaunt face that looked like it had seen too much. His hair had been bleached white and though he was slimmer, you could tell that he had enough muscle to easily win a brawl. Hyuna was dressed uncharacteristically. Instead of her typical oversized shorts paired with tight jeans, she wore tiny shorts and a crop top. Her makeup was dark and heavy, and she shockingly fit in well with the group.

“Let her go,” Hyuna demanded, her girlish voice tinted with authority. “Do you have what we asked for?” the DJ asked, tone steady and unaffected by the situation. Hyuna nodded at the inked man. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “The rights to the shipping port on the south side,” he said as he waved the folded square. The DJ appeared to be satisfied. “Give us the girl,” the blonde ordered. His voice was unpredictably gentle sounding. P.O pulled a miniature key from inside of his jacket. He took your wrist and within seconds you were free. However, P.O grabbed hold of the back of your neck firmly and you flinched at the threatening action. You knew better than to make any sudden moves and let your arms hang limply at your sides though you wanted to pry P.O off of you. “We’ll trade at the same time,” the bartender announced.

The paper was passed to the taller man and P.O forced you forward. For every step you took, the white-haired man matched. A chill made you shudder when you passed him, not liking the vibe you got from him. P.O hadn’t let you go and still stood behind you even as you reached within arm’s distance of Hyuna. The two gangs each had a person in the opposite court. The whole scenario was too tense for you to handle and there was no way that you were hiding the way your legs shook. P.O finally released you and Hyuna’s face looked relieved as you came closer. The happiness in her miniscule smirk loosened the knot in your chest a bit.

Too focused on Hyuna, you missed the palm-sized pistol that the shorter man next to her pulled from behind him. The gun shot was deafening. Not having fast enough reflexes to react, you were thrown down into the sand with a hard push. The air erupted into warfare as what sounded like millions of guns fired at the same time. The weight of a body fell on top of you and all you could do was cover your ears and squeeze your eyes shut. Your nails dug into your scalp as you tried to block out the screams that followed the bullets. You prayed that you wouldn’t be hit.

Just as quickly as it had started, the noise stopped. It took a long moment for you to gather enough courage to open your eyes. Clouds of dust were beginning to settle when you were hauled upwards by the collar. Wobbling, you got to your feet. Turning around, you faced P.O who likely had covered you with himself in the fray. He grunted and motioned to the car. You ran as fast as you possibly could, the adrenaline making you even faster. P.O’s footsteps chased yours and you practically ripped open the back door. “No, drive!” he barked. “You want me to drive?” you hollered, frantically looking over your shoulder. He didn’t answer and instead limped around the vehicle nursing his side. He was injured. You left the back door open, noting that the car was empty. You rushed to the driver’s seat and hopped in, not caring how loudly the door slammed behind you.

P.O looked over the top of the car, scanning the beach for his men. You raced to adjust the seat so that your feet actually touched the pedals. Hands trembling, you fastened your seatbelt. It was funny how even in emergency situations, your habits persisted. You wanted to glance back at the wall to see how many people were left standing, but you didn’t think that you could stomach the carnage. Thankfully not giving you a chance, P.O forced a bloodstained DJ into the back seat. The bartender crawled in from the other side and before they could even get fully seated, you gunned it. The car stuttered and your insides lurched at the thought of the SUV being stuck in the sand but then it jerked forward.

“Hold on!” you shouted and whipped the car around dangerously. You followed the ramp back to the road, intentionally avoiding the parking lot. Speeding more than you ever had in your life, you flew down the highway. Now was not the time to be worried about being pulled over. In fact, you were certain that the passengers you carried were more of a threat to the police than the police was to you. “Where am I going?” you asked, taking stock of how all three of them were coated in red. “The hospital,” the bartender moaned. “The hospital?” you repeated in disbelief. Though you were no expert, you were pretty sure that the hospital was an unsafe place for gangsters.

Before anyone had the chance to reply, a black Hyundai in the rearview mirror caught your attention. “Is he one of yours?” you questioned, pressing harder on the acceleration. P.O looked over his shoulder. The windshield of the car that tailed you was tinted so you couldn’t see who was driving it. After staring hard, he responded, “Yeah, it’s ours,” and leaned back. You sighed in happiness as you avoided a car chase. Not normally a fantastic driver, as panicked as you were, you were sure to kill someone if you went any faster. “Are you sure you want to go to the hospital?” you asked. When you started to be concerned about these guys, you had no idea, but for some reason you felt like you were in this together. Maybe it was the good person in you seeing three boys in need of help or the obligation of knowing that you were the reason for the shootout and P.O had protected you. Either way, you headed for the hospital.


	9. Chapter 9

The actual destination wasn’t the hospital, but rather, the minuscule oriental clinic behind the hospital. Just as P.O had told you to do, you pulled into the driveway and left the car idling as you rang the doorbell. A petite woman answered and asked if you had an appointment. “Temptation of the wolf,” you huffed as instructed. She nodded calmly, which pissed you off. You had three men bleeding out from gunshot wounds and worry made you impatient. She shut the door quietly and shortly after the sound of a garage door could be heard. But there was no garage in sight.

Rushing back to the car, P.O pointed to the portion of the pavement that was opening up. It seemed like part of the driveway was sinking into the ground. You let your mouth hang open in amazement until P.O urged you to get back into the car. Unsure of driving down the incline into the darkness, you hesitated. “Go!” the DJ shouted. Though you had put an incredible amount of trust into these guys that day, this one made you second guess them a little. They were suffering from severe blood loss, it wouldn’t be odd delirium to take a hold. “Please,” the bartender whined. The pain lacing his voice propelled you forward.

It was clever, their little set up. Above ground, the traditional Korean house served as an oriental clinic. It appeared peaceful and homey with its stone fixtures and open gardens. Hidden below the surface was a modern day emergency room, outfitted with all the necessary machinery. It seemed like they had prepared for your arrival as large men in scrubs ran to the car with gurneys. As soon as the trio had been pulled from the cars, they were whisked away. Shooed away from the action, you sat upstairs at a low wooden table nursing a cup of hot tea. The woman from earlier sat silently across from you. You knew better than to ask questions, so you kept quiet as well.

An hour passed and there was still no word from downstairs. You were starting to get anxious. Were there complications? Did a bullet hit something vital? Restless, you constantly shifted position. The woman calmly sat motionless as if this were an everyday thing. Just as you had built up enough courage to find your voice, a burly guy in a suit walked into the room. Both of you turned towards him. You couldn’t remember if he had been at the beach or not, but he was dressed the same way as the others. Fleetingly, you wondered what had been done with the bodies and where the underlings were being treated. Looking straight at you, he politely asked that you come with him. Surprised by the sudden respect, you wavered before getting to your feet. He led you down a hallway of paper screen doors. You came to a split in the path and he continued straight towards the wall. Sliding the wooden panel to the side, he revealed a set of stairs. Stopping a meter behind him, you glanced from him to the passage before entering it after him.

The boys had been moved to one large hospital-like room. They all lay unconscious with oxygen masks over their faces. Though they were covered with blankets, you could see blotches of blood on the gauze wrapped around the DJ’s shoulder. A man in green scrubs and a shower cap entered the room behind you. “They’ll be okay. I removed all of the bullets. They’ll need some time to recover though and they’ll be in pain,” he said. You nodded, glad that they would be fine and the extractions had gone well. There was just one thing wrong with this situation. “Why are you telling me this?” you asked. The doctor looked taken aback by your question. “Aren’t you going to be the one caring for them?” he inquired. You sharply looked at the man who had brought you here. He stared at his feet, refusing to make eye contact with you. He had brought you here to designate you guardian of the injured.

It was true that you felt some sense of responsibility but it wasn’t like you were part of their gang. But, assuming this role after the shootout would buy you some time to hatch a plan. If they needed a caretaker, then their lackeys wouldn’t be able to kill you. And it wasn’t like they could properly take care of the boys. All they knew was violence. Their bosses were critically wounded and they had no idea what to do, let alone how to show compassion, so they were pushing it on to you. “I guess I am.”

He smirked and you immediately questioned your decision. The whole circumstance was strange. For them, it was a deal gone wrong. For you, it was your best friend’s brother betraying you. You were now useless at it was clear that you were expendable and your life wasn’t worth more than a piece of paper. You weren’t sure if helping them was going to get you killed or if it would keep you alive.

“You should have died.” The words were spat at you but you somehow didn’t feel their sting. Maybe it was because you had come to expect it from the blonde. He had been shot twice, once in the bicep and once in the leg. Unable to use his hand or feet, he was essentially bed ridden. You were sure that his dependence on you irritated him to no end. The other boys were better off with P.O being grazed on the left side and the bartender sporting a right shoulder wound. They were able to at least stand or walk on their own. The bartender had to be pushed in a wheelchair to the bathroom. Luckily, he would kick you out for that and would use his good arm. So while his pride was preserved somewhat, he had to power through the pain. All the cooking and cleaning was left to you. Having fended for yourself long enough, P.O cutely complimented the taste of your pasta with a wide smile and the DJ commented on how he had a bottle of wine that would pair perfectly with it. You also served as their nurse, delivering their medications on schedule and making sure that their stitches stayed intact and clean.

The first week they spent drifting in and out of consciousness. You only woke them to take their meds and to eat. Even with their young blood and use of morphine, you were surprised by how quickly they were recovering. Seeing as how the bartender had enough energy to mouth off, he seemed to be doing fine. Even with all his attitude, he kept still when you sponged him down and applied antibacterial ointment to his wounds. One of the lackeys had been thoughtful enough to get you some clothes so you didn’t have to walk around in P.O’s pajamas. You laughed when you pulled out all sorts of different sports outfits from the shopping bags left on the counter. You were thankful to have the DJ stop saying that you would look cuter in his sleepwear, but he always had a cheesy pick up line anyway.

Just to see what would happen, you tried to explore with building when you were brought back on another blindfolded trip. The boys were knocked out and there was nothing else to do. You hadn’t even fully turned the living room doorknob all the way before you were stopped. There was a guard posted in the hallway awaiting you. The threat was made perfectly clear if you attempted escape. All of the boys’ rooms were accessible through the living room and there was a kitchen and bathroom as well, so you had no excuse to try to leave. The hallway that P.O had led you through to his room the first time was a part of a hidden passage that you couldn’t find no matter how hard you searched their rooms while they slept. The guard even brought groceries and fresh bandages to ensure that you never had to go out.

Being injured made them more docile. Incrementally, your fear of them decreased as you recognized that they could do no actual harm to you in their current state. For the most part, you spent your free time alone. As this point, there was no way for you to return to school. You had no way of contacting anyone either as you didn’t have your phone on you when you were kidnapped and you didn’t recall anyone’s phone number. You wondered if anyone was even looking for you. Hyuna would have been the only one actually concerned, but you weren’t sure if she had made it off the beach alive. Again, not thinking was the best remedy to avoid panicking or driving yourself crazy. There was a small stack of books in the DJ’s room which appeared to be just for decoration. You still took them and read on the makeshift bed you had created on the couch. Both the DJ and P.O had offered to share their beds with you but neither option was all that appealing. The sofa was comfortable enough for you with a blanket. Immersing yourself in stories away from them allowed you to forget that you were still technically a hostage.

However, the few underlings that floated by to check on their bosses reminded you not to get too comfortable. While not in immediate danger, your life was not guaranteed. Once the boys started spending more time awake, things became more difficult. They demanded a lot, which you came to understand was their way of asking for attention. Like a mother with sick children, you ran around fetching things for them. Not once did they ask about anything that required you to leave the building though. They were entrusting you with their lives by allowing you to take care of them while simultaneously keeping you on a short leash.

You quickly learned that the DJ was a workaholic, doing paperwork and staring at graphs while in bed. If you didn’t know better, you would have mistaken him as a businessman. You figured in a way he was a businessman, just in a different kind of business. The bartender was asleep most of the time due to the heavy-duty painkillers he was on, so you didn’t have to interact with him much thankfully. Whenever you entered P.O’s room, he tried to lure you into conversation or have you look for things in his closet in order to spend more time with you. His gentleness towards you had you confused. The DJ’s comments weren’t serious and were mostly to tease you, but P.O appeared to be sincere. He asked about your parents and your hobbies. While you pointedly avoided talking about your family, you did let him know that you enjoyed listening to music and reading. In return, P.O opened up to you about his interest in fashion, as if you couldn’t tell by the size of his wardrobe.

The day that the bartender could sit up on his own they gathered in his room and locked the door. Hours passed before P.O and the DJ finally emerged. They had a lot to discuss considering that there were now at full-fledged war with Hyuna’s gang. There was the problem of you too. While they held their meeting, you practically chewed off your nails. You wandered in circles, making yourself tea and baking brownies but nothing seemed to calm you down. P.O marched straight to where you sat on the couch when they were done. He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to his room. You followed without question as P.O was the one you believed in most here. The DJ tracked you with his eyes before sighing and disappearing into his room.

P.O shut the door behind him, which was unusual. You always left the door open when you came in and he never seemed to mind before. “What’s going on?” you ventured nervously, not having the guts to sit on the edge of the bed like you normally did. “Stay in my room tonight,” he ordered with a stern look. You swallowed hard before asking, “Why?” “Just stay,” he answered. Suddenly the air in your lungs felt heavy. They had made a decision on what to do with you. Apparently, it wasn’t a very pleasant outcome if P.O felt the need to have you close. “Okay,” you agreed. You didn’t know what would happen if you didn’t listen to him and you didn’t want to find out.

“Should I make dinner?” you inquired as P.O moved towards the bed. “No,” he replied. Momentarily, you worried about what the others would eat but then you saw the pained expression on P.O’s face. “Where does it hurt?” you questioned, rushing to his side. He sighed harshly and said, “I’m okay.” “Are you sure?” He glanced at you and you shut up. His expression read “No more questions.” He climbed under the sheets slowly and you stayed nearby in case he needed help. After settling in, P.O looked at you expectantly. It took a second to realize what he wanted, but once you did, you crawled into bed on his uninjured side carefully to avoid jostling him.

P.O laid back and you stayed sitting. You were concerned about him but you were also worried about you. He sighed again and turned his head towards you. “What do you think of me?” he asked. The question threw you for a loop. His small eyes searched yours hopefully. “What?” you said before thinking. “What do you think of me?” he repeated. You couldn’t tell if there was a right or wrong answer so you responded, “I think you’re nice.” “Nice…,” he mumbled, “What do you think of B-Bomb?” “B-who?” “The one who hits on you,” he explained a bit impatiently. “He’s okay too,” you answered, not sure what he was getting at and too afraid to ask what he meant. “Do you like him more than me?” You almost choked on your spit. The ridiculousness of the question had you forgetting yourself and raising your voice, “Are you asking if I have feelings for him?!”

P.O’s jaw visibly tightened and you apologized. An awkward minute of silence passed before he spoke again. “Do you see me as a man?” Bewildered, you had to double take to confirm that he was being serious. Drawing a blank on what you should say, you stuttered, “U-um…” His shoulders deflated. He ran his palm down his face and kept his hand over his mouth. Between his fingers, he said, “I like you.” You froze. The confession turned your blood into ice and you shuddered. It took a long while to process his words but when they finally sunk in, your only question was, “Why are you telling me this?” He looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Thoughts flooded your mind. Briefly, you considered returning to the couch. But there was no telling what would happen if you fell asleep tonight out in the open. Being in the protection of P.O was better than running the risk of not waking up in the morning. Even so, awkwardness prevailed after the confession. You laid down with your back to him, hoping that avoiding eye contact would diffuse the tension a fraction. It wasn’t that you weren’t fond of P.O – you were – but it was odd to see a reverse Stockholm syndrome. “Why?” you asked quietly. There was again no response. You wondered if he had even heard you, but you didn’t dare ask again. “I don’t know,” came a mumbled reply. Your heart stopped for a moment, you hadn’t expected him to answer. After allowing you a few seconds to calm down your shocked coronaries, P.O continued, “You’re a good person. You helped us even though you knew who we were and what we did to you. We don’t come across good people in our line of work.”

Now knowing that, his thought process made some sense. Fleetingly, you recalled being drawn to the mysterious man wandering the outskirts of the dance floor at the club. You had ended up in this whole mess because you were attracted to P.O. It had been a rollercoaster ride, but he was the only one you could rely on. You guessed that a weird bond that had been formed between the two of you.

Your fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against the mattress as you contemplated the situation. Did you still find P.O attractive? You weren’t sure. He had scared you plenty enough when he coolly reacted to the shootout. It clearly wasn’t his first time. But he had also used his own body to shield you. Honestly, he could have easily let you die. It would have been one less burden on them. He probably wouldn’t have gotten shot either. You wondered if you would have prioritized someone else’s life if it were you.

Large hands running through your hair pulled you from the depths of your mind. It was then that you remembered that you were sharing a bed with a man much bigger than you, a man who was a gangster, a man who was a gangster with feelings for you. He could take what he wanted at any point tonight. He abruptly stopped and ordered you to look at him. You stiffened, frightened by your earlier realization. He tugged on your shoulder when you didn’t move. You seized up the touch, unintentionally resisting him. To your amazement, he didn’t push it further and instead whined. Surprised by the childishness, you couldn’t help but glance back.

P.O was watching you with a look of curiosity. You sighed, mad at yourself for being foolish enough to look back. Using your pivoted angle, he pulled on your shoulder and you naturally rolled onto your back. You bit your lip, unprepared for whatever came next. P.O studied you wordlessly as your eyes focused on anywhere but him. Finally, he reached out slowly, as if not to startle you, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. You followed his fingers with rapt attention. They traced across your cheek before returning to his side. P.O leaned his upper half towards you as he stared at you.

“I’m not asking for anything, just stay by my side tonight,” he said. The sincerity of his words was readable on his face. Biting your lip, you considered your options. You had no idea what was in store for you tomorrow, so spending what could very well be your last night on earth alone didn’t seem like the best decision. Giving in, you nodded. P.O smirked, pleased by your answer. Like that, a quiet moment passed as you watched each other.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?” P.O inquired suddenly. You looked up at the ceiling contemplatively. “Anywhere?” you repeated, “Mmm, probably France.” “France,” he mumbled. Returning your gaze back to P.O, you pressed, “You’re not going to ask me why?” “Nope,” he replied with a teasing smile. Happy that the ice had broken, you pouted back, pretending to be upset. He chuckled and pinched your cheek lightly.

“Where would you want to go?” you questioned. “Paris,” the response was instant. You nodded slowly in understanding. With P.O’s interest in fashion, he would fit in rather well in Paris. Like that, the conversation carried on deep into the night. Eventually, you began to slur your words as you found it harder to keep conscious. Your eyelids grew heavy and your limbs slowly turned to lead. Faintly, you could feel P.O gently pat your head as you began to fall asleep. You were knocked out within seconds of letting your eyes close.

A heavy hand was draped across your waist when you awoke. At some point, P.O had curled himself around you so that his chest was against your back. No wonder you had slept so well, P.O had served as a giant heated pillow. It should have bothered you that he snuggled up to you but he was so harmless, you couldn’t even be irritated with him. Wiping the grogginess from your face, realization hit you. Today was the day.

You didn’t know what was going to happen, but whatever it was, it was going to happen today. Your gut tied itself in knots at the thought. Not wanting to get out of bed but also too restless to stay still, your decided to go shower. However, the moment you moved, P.O’s grip on you tightened. Glancing back, you caught sight of P.O staring seriously at you with his mouth set in a firm line. His puffy cheeks should have been cute but they only provided a stark contrast to his unrelenting gaze. He didn’t even blink. “Don’t go anywhere for now,” P.O rumbled, his voice even deeper from sleep. Jaw falling open a little, you could only blankly stare back.

“Don’t leave yet,” he begged more than ordered. You thought it over briefly. Was there an ulterior motive behind him wanting you to stay in bed? Did it have something to do with the decision they made? His arm turned into steel as he held onto you harder. “Okay,” you quickly agreed before he could squeeze you hard enough to hurt and he loosened up a fraction. “What’s going on?” you asked. “Shh, just relax,” P.O soothed. You tilted your head in confusion but didn’t fight it.

“What do you think of me?” P.O questioned. You hesitated before answering. “I trust you.” Though it wasn’t the answer he was looking for, it was your honest feelings. Considering what you had been through, liking someone – especially your captor – was difficult. P.O sighed and pressed his nose to the back of your shoulder. “I see…but that’s not bad either,” he said as he considered the implications of your words. You smiled at his hopefulness, too nice to correct him. In a lot of ways, P.O was like an overgrown middle schooler but mainly he was an immature boy trying to be a man.

P.O came a tad closer and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. It made you shudder with ticklishness. He gave a muted chuckle. Though the uncertainty of the rest of the day had lodged itself in the back of your mind, the present was peaceful and quiet. It was pleasant to just bask in the warmth of another person without worrying that someone was going to slit your throat.

You startled awake with a series of loud knocks at the door. You had no idea when you had fallen back asleep, but you figured that in the comfort of P.O’s bed, you could easily doze off. Before P.O could even get untangled from the sheets, the DJ was swinging the door open. “Rise and shine kiddies, it’s time to go,” he chirped. Blearily, you rubbed the crust from your eyes. Still groggy, the backpack the DJ tossed your way hit you squarely in the face. You barely flinched at the impact, but couldn’t contain your growl of annoyance. The DJ smirked, “Hurry and get dressed, you don’t want to be late.” He moved to leave but suddenly turned back. “Oh, and you might want to put some makeup on,” he added before exiting. You curled your lip at his condescending intonation, but he was long gone.

A fast shower later, you were swiping the mascara and eyeliner on that you had found in the backpack. The bag had been packed with the clothes that had been bought for you and you could tell that you wouldn’t be returning to this place. Vaguely, you wondered if you were going to be sold or if they were going to put you into a brothel and that’s why you needed to look somewhat good. P.O had remained oddly silent the whole time. More than the thoughts running through your head, you wondered what he was thinking. He pointedly avoided you and remained in his wardrobe as he got ready.

Another brisk rapping at the door signaled that it was time to go. Grabbing the backpack and slinging it over your shoulder, you called out to P.O. He emerged from his closet well-dressed in a gray suit and toying with the band of his watch. The first few buttons of his black dress shirt were undone and his hair was tastefully mussed. You licked your dry lips at how handsome he looked. That answered the question of if you were still attracted to him.

He held open the door for you. Entering the living room, there seemed to be a small farewell party to see you off. In addition to the DJ and the bartender in his wheelchair, there were four burly men dressed in black pants and black t-shirts. They looked more like body guards then underlings, with their lack of tattoos and greased hair. Unease washed over you in a soul-crushing wave.

The sight of a lone wine glass full of blood colored liquid sitting on the coffee table had your stomach turning. You prayed that it wasn’t actually blood. “Drink it,” the bartender barked. P.O’s hand landed heavily on your shoulder and pushed you forward. There was a ninety percent chance that the drink would leave you unconscious and the other ten percent was reserved for the odds of it killing you. Neither option was appealing but you were standing in the middle of a room full of gangsters that would have no issue in holding you down and pouring it down your throat forcefully if you refused.

A cold sweat broke out on your back as you crossed the distance to the table. You decided that drinking it on your own was the best. At least if you died, it would be a peaceful death. With trembling fingers, you grasped the stem of the glass. All eyes were on you as you brought the rim to your lips. The liquid was sweet but a bit tart and you realized that it was pomegranate juice. There was an obvious chemical taste to it and you resisted the urge to laugh at their lack of discreteness. Not that they had to care anymore, everyone knew that it wasn’t only juice that you were drinking. “Finish it,” the DJ ordered. Inhaling deeply and holding your breath, you drained the glass while trying to avoid actually tasting it. “Goodbye,” P.O whispered in your ear before a black curtain was pulled over your vision.


	11. Chapter 11

You shielded your eyes from the blinding sunlight. The language of love filled your ears and you wondered how it had already been a year. Exactly one year ago, you had awoken in a beige colored apartment. You thought your forehead was going to burst from the pounding and though the pain demanded almost all of your attention, the way your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls was distracting. There wasn’t even a bit of spit to try to swallow. Rising slowly, you examined your surroundings through squinted eyes. The apartment was completely unfamiliar, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. You staggered to the kitchen, fighting the urge to retch. Luckily, the sink was just a few steps away from the couch you had woken up on.

Four glasses of water later and you could actually think somewhat clearly. The last thing you remembered was being drugged. Glancing at the window, you saw that there was still sunlight out. That meant that you couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a couple of hours. Taking a better look around, you took note of the fully furnished apartment. It appeared to be small and cozy but you caught that there were no personal belongings indicating who lived here. Suddenly, you realized that it was quiet, too quiet. Cautiously, you grabbed a knife from the butcher’s block on the counter and began to explore. Holding the blade at attention, you slipped around corners silently.

Gradually, you made it through the entire place. You had opened every door and even searched under the bed. It was only when you were sure that you were alone did you set the knife down. There was a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room and that was it. The place was too small to even have space for a dining room. Everything had been decorated in beige and white, without a hint of color. You wondered who it belonged to. Though the apartment was furnished, it only contained the bare necessities. However, there was no trace of a clock interestingly enough.

Bravely, you tried the exit. The doorknob turned so easily that it surprised you at first. It seemed that you had grown accustomed to locked doors. But it shouldn’t have been that easy to escape. Short of breath with panic, you debated on whether or not you should venture outside. P.O’s farewell echoed in your mind right then. Had it really been a final goodbye? Decision made, you darted out into the hallway. Spotting a staircase at the end, you ran. Tearing your way into the street, you were completely thrown by the fair faces that you saw. Eyes darting around, you realized that all of the signs were in Roman letters. It took you a good minute to figure out that the language they were in was French.

“Paris…” you breathed, recalling your conversation with P.O. Your hand flew up to cover your gaping mouth. There was no way. You rushed to the nearest person. “Time?” was all you could choke out in English. Understanding what little you had given him, the stranger replied with a heavy accented, “Two o’clock.” Your chest tightened and you felt like you were going to faint. “Are you okay?” the man asked, probably concerned about the way the color drained from your face. “Yes,” you mumbled and walked away in uncertainty. Confused, he watched you go before turning to leave himself.

The brick of the building was cool against your cheek. You sagged into the wall, letting it keep you upright. Somehow you always ended up in these fantastical situations and though nothing should have surprised you by now, you really couldn’t believe that you were in France. How had they even gotten you on a plane while you were sleeping? Too many possibilities of how they got you out of the country in a sedated state crossed your mind. Too tired from the shock and the drugs, you crawled back up to the apartment before you passed out on the sidewalk. You made sure to lock the door behind you and went to bed.

After finding a wallet in the backpack they had given you, you started life anew. They had provided you a new identity and a credit card. Using the fake name, you enrolled into university and secured a part time job. The card was only used to pay rent and for the first semester of school. There was no doubt that any expenses you accrued would be taken care of, but you were still fearful. You didn’t want them to be able to track your every move based on how you spent their money. It was bad enough that you stayed right where they left you. However, it was likely the safest option in case of emergency. Their enemies were now your enemies too. But being scared was tiring. So you lived quietly. Having already taken most classes required for an accounting degree in your past life, you convinced the dean and professors to let you take a placement test. You had seen enough to know that you couldn’t trust the law, but money never lied.

You finished school early and joined a firm working with larger corporations. Today marked the end of your first month working as an accountant. Though your French was still lacking, you were fluent in English and became an asset to assist with lawyers and CEOs on mergers and intercompany deals. The sun had risen and immersed you in its light, forcing you to get up even though it was a weekend. Stretching before sliding on your slippers, you headed to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. You were brushing your teeth when there was a knock at the door. You hadn’t been expecting anyone.

Unexpected visitors were something that you had prepared for. Quickly, you rushed to the bedroom and pulled out the pistol you had tucked under the mattress. Checking that the safety was off, you slid it into the waistband of your pajama pants and made sure to drape your night shirt over it to completely conceal it. Peeking through the peephole, you saw that whoever was on the other side was intentionally hiding their identity by covering the hole. Time had made you stronger and instead of the unease you would have felt a year ago, all you felt was confusion. With the bravery of someone armed and trained to wield a weapon, you unlocked the door. Standing in your hallway was a black-haired P.O. He was wearing glasses but still dressed in his staple, a suit. Your stomach sank, felling like it was going to fall right out of your gut. Forgetting how to breathe, you could only stare.

P.O pulled a bouquet from behind him and offered them to you. You glanced down at the flowers, then back at him in disbelief. He was really there. You took another look at the flowers when he shook the bouquet, urging you to take it. With trembling hands, you slowly reached out. You swallowed hard, trying to quell the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Just as you had grazed the plastic lining, P.O grabbed your wrist and tugged. Easily losing balance with the surprise attack, you tipped forward. Smoothly, P.O caught you in his arms and held you firmly. Dazed as he nuzzled into your hair, you barely heard him whisper, “I missed you.” You stood limply as he continued to hug you.

Finally realizing the situation as you sat at your kitchen counter watching P.O sip a cup of coffee, you studied him. He had hung his jacket on the back of his chair, your gun out of view resting in the pocket. He had smoothly disarmed you as he released you from him embrace, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary on your bare skin. Though you could see how thin he had become in his face, you felt it too when you were against him. P.O always had a certain stiffness to him, but the way he carried himself today was different. He seemed more mature. You wondered if the past year had been very stressful for him. Looking up from his cup, he asked, “How have you been?” “Well,” you answered and took a gulp from your own mug, “You?” He hesitated and you knew to wait. P.O tried to keep his face blank but you could see his internal battle of trying to decide whether he should tell the truth or lie to you. Though the question was simple enough, there was nothing simple about his world.

Saving him from himself, you announced, “I’ve become an accountant. Paris has treated me well.” He gaped for a second before nodding. “Is that why you won’t let me spend money on you?” P.O inquired. You smiled and commented, “And here I thought I was doing you a favor.” “You’re too reasonable. You could have gone out and binged once in a while,” he responded. “You would have been broke if I did that,” you chuckled as you focused on the bare wall behind P.O. Other than clothes in the closet, you had left the apartment the exact way you had found it. You also avoided getting too close to people. One never knew when they would have to up and leave.

“Are the others doing good too?” you asked. He nodded, taking a long draw of his drink. Though it wasn’t quite autumn yet, the mornings were cool enough for the coffee to pleasantly warm your insides. Now that you had made small talk, you approached the elephant in the room, “Why are you here?” P.O’s expression turned somber. “I missed you,” he replied quietly. The words were unexpectedly straightforward and accompanied by direct eye contact. It took you off guard. “I’ve missed you a lot,” he continued, “I thought about you often.”

There was nothing you could say to that. While you sometimes thought of them also, you found yourself wondering about P.O when things got tough. Your memories of P.O served as a source of strength when you felt fragile because in your head you always had someone to rely on. Before you could think twice, the question tumbled out of your mouth,” Why?” P.O smirked wistfully. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. When you continued to show your lack of understanding, he confessed, “I like you.”

It felt like you had been shot in the heart as it pounded hard before stuttering in its rhythm. You averted your gaze and your jaw fell slack as your brain raced to compute. P.O leaned back in his chair and watched you silently. He patiently awaited your response. How could he still like you after all this time?

When you didn’t answer, he said, “Come back.” At that, your eyes snapped to his again. “Come back with me,” he repeated, “We got rid of all of Jay Park’s crew. It’s safe now.” With wide eyes, you asked, “Then Hyuna?” P.O licked his lips and looked away, unprepared for the question. He scratched the back his head before admitting, “She was lost in the shootout a year ago.”

You sat back, realizing that “lost” translated to “died”. Though you had your suspicions, you hoped that you were wrong. Hyuna had been your best friend and you desperately prayed that she had made it out of the fray alive. It was too much at once. The chair legs scraped against the hardwood as you abruptly stood. Running a hand through your hair, you ignored the concerned look P.O shot your way and made your way to the living room. P.O’s steps were fast and loud as he chased you. You hadn’t even made it to the sofa before his arms were around your waist, holding you tight to him and effectively rendering you immobile. Not that you had any idea where you were going. You just needed to move. You were emotionally devastated with the sudden confession again and the confirmation of your friend’s death.

P.O buried his nose into your neck and you tried to blink away the tears fogging up your vision. “Let me take care of you,” he pleaded. Sighing, you tried to calm yourself down. However, a falling tear must have hit P.O’s hand because he hastily spun you around to face him. His eyes scanned back and forth as streaks formed on your cheeks. Not knowing how else to comfort you, his hands grabbed your face as his lips met yours.

Your initial reaction was to step back, away from P.O. But he didn’t let you budge, gripping you harder. The fight left you and your hands cover his as his thumbs swiped away your tears. He let you go and you took a shaky breath before opening your eyes. You didn’t know when you had closed them. P.O’s eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at you. “Come with me,” he demanded.

The choice had been difficult. You had been facing a fork in the road with his offer, to either continue a peaceful life living as someone else or to return to the true you and face danger every day. Maybe you had been weak and vulnerable. Whatever it was, you left the life you had created in France and took back up your birth name as you followed P.O onto the plane. In a way, it was empowering. You didn’t have to hide behind the girl they made up for you. Every so often you would sneak a peek at P.O as you sat in your first class seats. Without fail, he was watching you with a grin carved into his face. Though you thought it was cute, it made you giddy enough to look away every time. He didn’t push it and simply held your hand sweetly. So maybe you liked him a little too.

There was no way to avoid your heart flying into your throat as you drew closer. You had no apartment to return to and you didn’t know if your degree would be recognized abroad. You hadn’t even brought anything with you other than your purse. And it wasn’t like you had the best relationship with either the DJ or the bartender. P.O said that they had eradicated Hyuna’s brother’s gang, so that made you feel slightly better, but you could still feel your pulse pounding in your neck.

The sun was still bright as you got into the car whose door P.O held open for you. He didn’t bother to blindfold you this time. You appreciated it as it allowed you to take in the familiar buildings. A sense of homecoming rushed you even though you had no home to return to. There was something telling you that you were back where you belonged. As always, you tried to keep your mind blank to avoid thinking about anything scary. Once more you glanced at P.O. He was focused on driving and his mouth was set in a firm line. You didn’t know whether or not that should have been concerning.

Their headquarters wasn’t what you had imagined it to be. From the outside, it looked like any other apartment building. In your head, it was supposed to look like a graffiti covered drug den. However, it was located in the center of a tranquil middle-class neighborhood. You got out of the car looking as confused as you felt. P.O saddled up to you and offered his hand. Closing your gaping mouth, you intertwined your fingers with his, needing the physical support.

The bartender and DJ appeared unsurprised by your presence. They must have been aware that P.O had gone to retrieve you. Unexpectedly, they formally introduced themselves by their aliases. Their names were odd, but you didn’t question it. When the bartender, U-Kwon, thanked you for caring for them, you could hear the blood rush to your head. You thought that the shock would give you a stroke. Even as you held your head just in case, B-Bomb threw you a flirty wink accompanied by his signature dimpled smile. “It should be a crime for you to get any more beautiful,” he commented. Not waiting for an invitation, you plopped down on the couch before you could collapse.

“So you agreed?” B-Bomb asked. You piqued an eyebrow at him. He sighed, “She doesn’t know does she?” The question was directed at P.O, who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re fine to stay here under our protection…for a price,” U-Kwon said. At that, your eyes widened. P.O hadn’t mentioned you living with them. Not that you had asked. In fact, you had followed him without any plan at all. “Be our accountant,” P.O ordered.

You inhaled sharply. You weren’t prepared for a request like that, but it was better than anything you had been thinking. “Okay,” you heard yourself agree. Quickly slapping a hand over your betraying mouth, you wondered what the hell was wrong with you. It hadn’t even been a few seconds, let alone enough time to properly consider the proposal. All day you had been making impulsive decisions on things that needed to be thought out. You wanted to kick yourself in the ass.

B-Bomb smirked devilishly and you knew you had just handed over your soul. Managing their finances wouldn’t be a typical job and there would be plenty of illicit accounts that would need to be followed. P.O had found his way next you and massaged your back in attempts of consoling you. “Don’t worry too much. Our lawyer will be working with you too,” he soothed. Your lip curled in irritation. You were madder at yourself than at him. Sighing, you stood. “I’m going to rest a bit,” you announced and excused yourself to P.O’s room.

Flopping belly first onto the bed, you heard the door open. Of course it was P.O tailing you to make sure you were alright. It was fair of him to follow you because you had briefly considered smothering yourself with a pillow. Needless to say, this wasn’t the welcome you had been expecting. But he knew that, and he also knew that you probably wouldn’t have come back with him if he had told you what they intended to use you for. Wordlessly, he laid down besides you. His hand found yours again and held it reassuringly. “How did this happen?” you asked. You weren’t sure if you were referring to five minutes ago or the past year and a half. You turned your head to face P.O and continued, “It seems like my fate is tied to you guys.” He searched your eyes before giving you a slight smile and saying, “Men met in the dark are the most dangerous.” At that, you laughed. Though it would have been a cheesy line in any other situation, here it was completely true.

You looked at the ceiling. It had been a wild time with them. It was more believable as a plot of a movie than real life. However, once you got caught, there was no going back. Rather than being blissfully ignorant in Paris, it would be more comfortable with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that P.O had rolled onto his side and was staring at you. If he had a tail, you were sure that it would be wagging right now. You grinned. Besides safety, there seemed to be other perks to this life. Maybe you had it in you to be a bit bad. “From today on, it’s zero for conduct,” you declared.


	12. Epilogue

Maybe it was because you had been intentionally shielded from the true nature of P.O’s occupation, but the glimpses of it never failed to stun you. Traces of cement mixed with mud after rainy days, busted eyebrows and lips, the frequent hair color changes, the omnipresent scent of alcohol on leather jackets, none of it was something you could get used to.

However, P.O tried hard to keep it hidden. You had practically moved into P.O’s room because you honestly had nowhere else to go. Now that you had accepted P.O’s feelings, he insisted that you stay with him and had even stopped B-Bomb from building you a separate bedroom. He cleaned out a wall of his closet for you before filling it with pastel suit pieces and dresses. It was easy to tell that P.O preferred his women on the feminine side. With your hefty weekly pay (crime provided a good salary), you added darker edgy garments to the collection to show him that while you did like him, you were very much your own person and he could not do as he pleased with you.

Not that your attempts at independence mattered much. The life of a gangster was nocturnal and accountants worked by daylight. When you were making your morning tea, P.O was finally stumbling through the door. Perhaps it was better that way. Ignorance kept you safe and happy.

If you wanted, you could have afforded your own place. But then you would be alone again like you were in Paris. Not willing to give up the semblance of a family you had created, you dealt with secrets and unanswered questions and P.O’s foolish expectations of girls. As the boys grew more accustomed to having a female housed in their home base, things got more comfortable. When they were home, B-Bomb and U-Kwon treated you like a little sister. They were rarely home though. B-Bomb was often out engaging in debauchery or whatever he did to return covered in lipstick and bruises. U-Kwon had another apartment where he lived with his girlfriend. He only came over when the beautiful model was out of town or if there was a big project in the works.

You took quite well to the underworld. Well, you were more on the fringes of the underworld. Having become more of a con artist than you realized, you found that your job wasn’t all that difficult. B-Bomb would simply hand you checks (real or not) or wads of cash and you had to sort them into various accounts at one of the multitude of banks you had spread their money into. For good measure, there were enough foreign bank accounts in their names as well. You just had to keep track of it all and make sure that they remained concealed and secure. U-Kwon sometimes asked you to prepare a suitcase of bills so he could play mahjong, but without fail, he always returned with a second suitcase. They never brought you anywhere near the actual dealings. You were thankful. The less people that knew your face, the less danger you were in.

As it was, only the top tier underlings new who you were. Your existence was on a need to know basis, and most people did not need to know. Nevertheless, you were an indispensible part of the gang now. You were to be guarded at all times. You had a big man in a black suit with you always, whether you knew it or not. When you did know it though, he like the rest of the ones privileged to information, treated you with upmost respect. While you were the organization’s most important accountant, you were also their leader’s woman. The lower members held doors open for you and without qualm escorted you to cafes. It was weird and wildly unnecessary, but they insisted.

You wondered if P.O had put them up to it. Men would throw you glances but would immediately avoid eye contact once a scary scar covered guy in sunglasses saddled up to you. P.O was a possessive and obsessive lover. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he ordered his underlings to scare off anything remotely male away from you. When you were in P.O’s sight, his hands were all over you. Despite his gruff appearance, he tended to whine to you and smile that cute lopsided smile of his. Knowing how you reacted to his deep voice, he never missed the chance to whisper in your ear. He used his long limbs to coil around you and keep you cuddled to him. It hadn’t even been two weeks when he left a small velvet box near the coffee pot. In it was your half of a set of couple rings. Yours looked more like an engagement ring, with a large red solitaire ruby on a thin silver band. P.O’s was a thick gold ring encrusted with rubies. If you didn’t explicitly know that they were couple rings, it would have been hard to tell that they were a pair. It wasn’t a show of affection per se, it was him marking his territory in a covert way.

Other than that, P.O was a good boyfriend despite the long stretches between seeing his face again. He took you on dinner dates when he could, favoring good food to fancy restaurants. There were more trips to mom and pop places than five star dining experiences, which you appreciated. It reminded you of your past life. There were also the dark dates to the movies where you held hands when you weren’t sharing a bucket of popcorn and sneaking kisses between scenes. Spending time with P.O was dream-like but reality set in quickly once more when you climbed into the nondescript black car waiting outside whatever venue to take you back home. Often you would be dropped back to the house and P.O was off again, returning to his life in the shadows.

Your life was a game of yin and yang. There was always a need to find balance. There were plenty of instances where you were scared stiff and had cold sweat rolling down your back but there were also times of beautiful bliss that made up for the constant stream of lies. You didn’t mind facing big businessmen knowing that you were about to rob them for millions because there would be a brief moment of happiness later that night between dusk and dawn where you would be curled up next to the love of your life. Maybe it was the view from the top changing your perspective, but having zero conduct wasn’t too bad.


End file.
